


Kiss of Life

by Emospritelet



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Awkward Boners, Awkwardness, Blow Jobs, Dream Sex, Eventual Smut, F/M, Finger Sucking, Fingerfucking, Friends to Lovers, Hey I didn't have to tag it angst!, Hurt/Comfort, Kissing, Misunderstandings, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Past Character Death, Past Child Death, Prompt Fill, Slow Burn, Smut, These two nerds finally go for it, accidental nudity, at last, go me!, hospital au, i did it, it's been 84 years, naked photo shoots, there, they made me add the angst tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2019-04-29
Packaged: 2019-06-22 11:55:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 82,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15581433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emospritelet/pseuds/Emospritelet
Summary: After finishing college and finding herself down on her luck, Belle French moved to Storybrooke to stay with her father, and took on the only job she could get - helping out at the hospital.  Her instant and seemingly unrequited attraction to one of the doctors was the last thing she needed.  Dr!Gold and Candy Striper!BelleWinner of Best Storybrooke in The Espenson Awards 2019





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on prompts received on tumblr following a ficlet I wrote for my Christmas ficlet series Tis the Season.
> 
> Anonymous prompted: Belle's first day as a Candy Striper and her supervisor is Nurse Zelena. She also meets Gold for the first time.

Winter came to coastal Maine with biting winds and the first flecks of snow in the air, and Belle French shivered as she hurried along the street to Granny's diner, fallen leaves cartwheeling ahead of her in flurries of red and orange.  It was early November, and the ground was already sparkling with frost each morning, her father bringing plants into his florist shop each night to keep them from the worst of the cold.  She thought she had grown used to the north-eastern US, after so many years in Boston, but the winter wind was bitter, and she tugged her coat close.

The diner was blessedly warm as she entered, and she sighed in relief, smiling as she spied Mary Margaret Blanchard waving to her from a table near the window.  The young woman was a year or two older than her, pale-skinned and small-featured, her dark hair in a pixie cut above black jeans and a grey sweater.  She was one of the first to have welcomed her to the town a week earlier, and had introduced Belle to some other women around her age.  Mary Margaret taught at the elementary school, but she was also very involved in the local community, and it was through her that Belle hoped to be able to find work.  Another young woman, Ruby Lucas, had offered her a job waiting tables in the diner, and while Belle was grateful, she had done more than enough of that while studying.  Besides, the post was part-time only, and Belle really needed something more substantial if she was ever to get her own place.

Ruby came bouncing over as Belle slid into a seat opposite Mary Margaret, pad in hand and a pencil poised to take their order.  Shining dark hair was held back from her face with a red hairband to match her lipstick, a tight white blouse hugging her curves above a pair of red shorts that Belle was sure must be freezing anywhere but the humid diner.

"Hey, Belle, Mary Margaret!" she chirped.  "What can I get you guys?"

"Hot chocolate, please," said Belle.

"You want cream?" asked Ruby.  "Chocolate flakes? Marshmallows?"

"God, the works," said Belle, making her grin.  "I'll have cinnamon on top, too.  Mary Margaret?"

"Sounds good to me," agreed Mary Margaret, flicking dark hair out of her eyes.  "How soon until you get off, Ruby?  You could join us."

Ruby curled her lip.

"I have three hours left on the clock," she grumbled, but then brightened.  "How about we do a girls' night, though?  Friday?"

"I'm in."

Belle nodded her agreement, shrugging off her coat and unwinding the scarf from around her neck as Ruby trotted off with their order.  Mary Margaret put her head on one side.

"Any luck?" she asked, and Belle shook her head.

"Nothing that gives me the hours I need," she said.  "Oh, I could get two or three jobs, if I wanted, but there's never any guarantee the shifts would line up.  I need something that's full time, no scurrying around town trying to scrape together enough hours, you know?"

"Well, I did have one idea," admitted Mary Margaret.  "I help out at the hospital a couple of afternoons a week.  They're _always_ looking for new staff.  Lot of turnover, you know?  Part of me thinks it might be the nurse in charge, but then I tell myself to try and be a better person."

She grinned, eyes twinkling, and Belle leaned on the table.

"But I don't have any medical qualifications."

"Oh, it's not a nurse's post," Mary Margaret assured her.  "You'd just help out with bed-making, fetching and carrying things for the nurses, making the patients more comfortable, that kind of thing."

"And it pays okay?"

"Minimum wage," said Mary Margaret, pulling a face.  "You're not likely to get anything more than that in this town anyway, though."

"Yeah, so I'm starting to see," sighed Belle, feeling a little dejected.  "Still, I have to start somewhere.  Any idea who I need to talk to?"

"I can get you an application, if you like," said Mary Margaret.  "Like I said, they're always hiring.  Just - try to ignore Zelena."

"Who's Zelena?"

* * *

“Well, come on, keep up!”

Belle rolled her eyes at Nurse Zelena Mills’ back as the woman stalked along the hospital corridors in her navy-blue scrubs, reddish-blonde curls tied back in a tight bun.  The first day of her new post had not had the best of starts.  Zelena had the task of showing new assistants the ropes, and appeared to have taken an instant dislike to her, though Belle couldn’t think why.  Mary Margaret had been right about the post paying minimum wage, but that was better than nothing, and at least she felt as though she would be doing something useful.  She was determined to make a success of it, and so she tried to look past Zelena’s curling lip and snide remarks.

“You'll need to ditch the heels and get some flats,” said Zelena, over her shoulder.  “You’ll be running around all day, and I don’t have time to wait around for you to totter about in those ridiculous things.”

“Oh, I’m used to them,” Belle assured her.  “I can run in them and everything.  It’ll be fine for today.  Do I need to wear scrubs?”

Zelena sniffed, glancing back.

"Of course not," she said witheringly.  "Are you a trained professional?  We don't want the patients or their families thinking you know what you're talking about, don't be ridiculous!"

Belle dug her nails into her palms to stop herself making a sarcastic reply.  It wouldn't do to get fired before she'd even started.

"You can wear your own clothing, but keep it simple: slacks or skirts with shirts," Zelena went on.  "Nothing too revealing, mind, this is a hospital, not a bar.  Get rid of those _ridiculous_ shoes.  And make sure you wear your I.D. at all times."

"Right," said Belle, wanting to stick out her tongue.

“Well, let me show you the long-term ward,” said Zelena ungraciously.  “Mostly empty at the moment, thank goodness.  We have a coma patient, but you’ll be pleased to know he doesn’t require much attention.  _Terrible_ conversationalist.”

She snickered at that, and Belle frowned at her insensitivity as she pushed open the door.  Zelena froze immediately, sucking in a breath, and Belle almost ran into her.

If tubes and wires had not been connected to his body, the man in the bed in front of them could have been sleeping.  The ward was light and airy, the beeping of machines and the somewhat clinical smell making it very clear that this was a hospital, and not a convalescent home.  A doctor was looking the man over, making notes on a chart.  He was short and slender, a gold-handled cane hooked over his forearm as he inspected the chart in his hands.  Brown hair streaked with silver fell around his face, and Belle’s breath caught as he glanced around, dark eyes fixing on hers.  His face was angular, with high cheekbones and a sensual lower lip that for a brief, incredible moment made her wonder what it felt like to kiss him.  She could feel herself start to blush, and the man’s eyes crinkled as he smiled before glancing at Zelena.

“Miss Mills,” he said, in a warm, Scottish accent that made Belle’s abdomen tighten.  “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Dr Gold,” simpered Zelena.  “We must stop meeting like this.”

The harshness had gone from her voice, replaced by a breathy sweetness that made Belle want to giggle.  Dr Gold looked bemused.

“We must stop meeting in the hospital where we both work?” he said, puzzled.  “Well, if you say so.  Are you going to introduce me to your friend?”

“Oh, this is Miss French, taking over from Miss Boyd,” said Zelena, waving a dismissive hand.

Dr Gold took the cane from his forearm, getting it underneath him before taking a step closer, his eyes on Belle’s, a smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

“Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss French,” he said.  “I hope you enjoy working here.”

He gave her a tiny bow of his head, his hair shining in the light, and walked off, his pronounced limp providing a reason for the cane.  He moved quickly enough despite it, his uneven stride fluid, and Belle could feel her heart thumping as she watched him go.

"That's Dr Gold," said Zelena sharply.  "The most senior doctor in this place and _very important_ , do you understand?  I very much doubt you'll need to speak to him regularly, but if there's anything he asks you for, you're to give it priority."

"I'll do my best to follow the example I'm given," said Belle, turning to her with a bright smile, and Zelena's eyes narrowed.

"See that you do," she said.  "Now let me show you the canteen.  You get a half-hour break.  Don't make me come looking for you or there'll be hell to pay."

She stomped off again, and Belle rolled her eyes, sticking out her tongue.  She was beginning to understand why her predecessor Ashley Boyd had left after only three weeks in the role.  Still, she had dealt with unpleasant people all her life, and she could handle Zelena.  Dr Gold had seemed far more amiable.  Yes, she was looking forward to working with him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @rumple-belle prompted: Gold's POV of the first meeting and Belle asks about Gold at girls' night

Dr Gold would be the first to admit that he wasn't the most sociable of people, but he had never seen that as a personal failing, telling himself that he was alone by choice, and he preferred it that way.  He lived at the edge of town in a house which was beautifully presented and very comfortable, and if it was of a size more suited to a family than a single man, he told himself that he had a lot of things that needed a good home.  On the occasions when he was not at work, he would read in his study, tend his garden or cook himself something delicious with a glass of wine in hand and music filling the kitchen.  All in all, the move to Storybrooke had been one of his better ideas, although given the path his life had taken, the competition for good decisions wasn't exactly fierce.  He had worked at Storybrooke General for almost two years, and by and large he enjoyed it.  The hospital was large enough for him to see a number of different ailments, and to keep his medical skills honed, but not so large that he didn't know the names of every member of staff, and most of the patients.

He cast his eyes over the chart at the end of David Nolan's bed again.  The man had been in a coma for eight months, but he was stable.  If he would only wake up, he would no doubt make a full recovery, lengthy physiotherapy sessions notwithstanding.  Out of the corner of his eye he could still see Miss French, now being berated by Miss Mills, no doubt over some minor perceived infraction.  He really ought to have a word with Miss South about her.  The woman had already scared off previous applicants to the post, not to mention one or two fellow nurses, who had decided that working in the convalescent home at the convent was easier than putting up with Miss Mills' waspish tongue.  There was also a new nurse due to start on Friday - Miss Gale - and the last thing they needed was anyone else quitting.

Miss French appeared to take her chastisement with nothing but a placid smile, but her eyes were narrowing, and he could sense she wanted to say something in response.  Miss Mills appeared to finish, storming out of the room with a swing of her hips, and Miss French stuck out her tongue after her, making his mouth twitch in amusement.  She glanced around, catching his eye, and blushed, aware he had caught her in her insolence.  He gave her a tiny smile, and she licked her lips and dashed from the room after Miss Mills.  His smile widened a little.  She seemed to have something about her, something more than he had come to expect from the assistants the town could produce.  Intelligence, strength, and what he suspected was a good heart.  He wondered how she had ended up in Storybrooke.  It wasn't the kind of place that anyone would choose to come to.  Not without good reason, anyway.  Yes.  He would have words with Miss South.  He didn't want to lose Miss French.

* * *

Belle turned back and forth in front of the mirror, eyeing herself critically.  Ruby's suggestion of a girls' night had been a welcome one, and she thought she looked okay, the black dress with its cap sleeves cute enough for an evening of drinks and gossip.  It would be nice to meet some of the other young women in town; thus far she had only really talked to Ruby and Mary Margaret.  She smoothed her hands over her hips, nodding to herself.  Good enough.

She grabbed her purse and coat, pulling a woollen hat down over her ears against the bitter cold, and shouted to her father that she was going out.  He grunted something over the blare of sports coverage, and she rolled her eyes.  In all likelihood he'd be drunk by nine, and she was pleased to be doing something else that evening.  Moe French wasn't the most sociable of drunks, inclined to get belligerent and repetitive, and she had no desire to listen to a rant about the government, taxes, or worse, her lack of a career.

The night air was bitter, and she tugged her coat around herself, shivering as she trotted down the path and headed for town.  Ruby had given her directions to _The Rabbit Hole_ , the only club that Storybrooke possessed, but she took a wrong turning or two, heading down two dank, narrow alleys near the harbour before finding her way again.  Foul-smelling things squished beneath her shoes, making her wrinkle her nose and hurry on.  It was a relief to spy the gleaming red sign above a doorway, a stylised white rabbit popping its head out of a black hole, and she ducked into the club with a sigh.  Heat and noise hit her immediately, the club warm and humid and filled with the mingled scents of spilled beer, deep-fried snacks and body spray.

"Belle!"

Ruby's voice made her smile, and she turned on her toes, spying Ruby and Mary Margaret at a table in the corner.  Ruby was waving enthusiastically, clad in leather pants and a red top to match the streaks in her hair.  Mary Margaret was in blue, sipping a tall drink and staring dreamily off into the distance.  She smiled when Belle pulled out a chair.

"What are you having?" asked Ruby.  "My round.  Mary Margaret?"

"Same again," said Mary Margaret, holding up her glass, and Belle chewed her lip.

"I'll have a gin and tonic," she said, and Ruby beamed and bounced out of her seat, heading for the bar.

Belle took off her coat, settling in her chair and glancing around the bar.  She didn't recognise any of the other customers by name, but she had seen a few of the faces in Granny's or in the streets.  The crowd was mostly made up of young men who were drunk and loud, and she turned back to Mary Margaret, who sucked up the last of her drink and put down her glass.

"Yeah, I know this place isn't the best," she said.  "I'm afraid it's all Storybrooke has to offer.  It was this place or Granny's, and Ruby's usually had enough of the diner by the end of a shift."

"Oh, it's fine," said Belle hastily.  "It was good of you guys to invite me.  Are we expecting anyone else?" 

Mary Margaret shook her head regretfully.

"Kathryn has a date with Jim.  Oh - he's a gym teacher at the school," she added, when Belle looked confused.

"Jim the gym teacher?" she remarked, with a grin.

"I know."  Mary Margaret giggled a little.  "He's nice, though.  And she's had a thing for him for a while now.  And Ashley was gonna come, but she's sick.  I'm afraid you're stuck with me and Ruby."

"Which means you get to hang out with the best people," chirped Ruby, setting down glasses.  "Here, drink up."

Belle took her drink, taking a sip as she glanced around the club.

"So," said Ruby, leaning on the table with a grin.  "How was your first day at work?"

"Okay, actually," said Belle.  "I don't think Zelena likes me, but apart from that..."

"Oh, she doesn't like anyone," Mary Margaret assured her.  "Except Dr Gold, of course."

"Yeah, what's that about?" asked Belle, puzzled.  "She was practically drooling on him."

Mary Margaret giggled.

"I guess she interprets indifference as a come-on," she said, and shook her head, dark hair shining in the light.  "She's wasting her time, the guy never dates, as far as I've seen."

"What's his story?" asked Belle, and Mary Margaret wrinkled her nose.

"Came to town about two years ago," she said.  "He moved here from New York - flawless reputation, head of department - and threw it all away to come to Storybrooke."

"How come?" asked Belle, puzzled, and she shrugged.

"Pace of life, maybe?" she suggested.  "I guess all that responsibility gets to you after a while.  Storybrooke _has_ to be less stressful."

"Apart from Zelena," remarked Ruby, and Mary Margaret giggled.

"She needs a change of focus," she said, stirring her drink with a straw.

"So does this conversation," said Ruby.  "Screw Zelena!  What about you, Belle?  You in the dating game?"

"Not since college," admitted Belle.  "I never seem to have much luck with guys."

"We can totally set you up!" said Ruby excitedly.  "What about Sean?"

"Ashley's still hung up on him," Mary Margaret reminded her, and Ruby pulled a face.

"Okay, who else..." she mused.

"Rubes, the pickings in this town are somewhat slim," said Mary Margaret dryly.  "I'd go as far as to say skinny."

"There's Dr Whale," suggested Ruby.  "Cute, eligible..."

"...and a total womaniser," added Mary Margaret.  "Not bad in bed, though."

"Not as good as he thinks he is," muttered Ruby, and they all giggled.

"This is seeming more and more like a lost cause," remarked Belle.

"Hey, don't lose faith!" said Ruby, and pursed her lips as she scanned the bar.

"Over there you have Killian, Arthur and Keith," she said, nodding towards a group of three dark-haired men, one of whom smirked and raised a glass.  "All good-looking assholes, if you're into that sort of thing."

Belle shuddered.  "Definitely not."

Ruby sighed in a defeated manner.

"Okay - how about Lance?" she suggested, gesturing to the bar, where a broad-chested man with kind, dark eyes was leaning close to the man next to him, gesturing as he talked.  "New in town, polite, tips well..."

"Oh, he's really nice," added Mary Margaret.

"There!" said Ruby triumphantly.

"He's also gay."

_"Dammit!"_

Belle giggled.

"Look, it's not as though I'm desperate," she said.  "I don't think I'm likely to find the love of my life in this bar, you know?"

"Okay, let's deal with this more scientifically," said Ruby, taking a slurp of her drink.  "What do you look for in a man?"

"Um..."  Belle pursed her lips, trying to chase the unbidden image of Dr Gold from her mind.  "Well, how he looks isn't important.  I mean, I have to find him attractive, obviously, but that usually comes after getting to know someone.  And I don't really have a type, I'm more interested in what he's  _like_ , you know?"

"Any interests?" prompted Ruby.

"Well, I do love books," she said eagerly.  "My dream is to be a librarian, actually."

"Books, huh?" said Ruby, with a grin.  "I may have just the guy."


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: A patient can't keep his hands to himself around Belle. Dr Gold won't tolerate the patient's behavior.

Belle had enjoyed her Friday night with Ruby and Mary Margaret, at least once they had gotten away from the subject of blind dates and onto topics of conversation in which she had more interest.  After some persuasion, though, she had decided that it couldn’t do any harm to go on a date. It wasn’t as though she had anything else to do with her evenings, after all. Ruby had offered to set the whole thing up, so all she had to do was turn up, eat, and make conversation, which she was reasonably sure of being able to do if the guy liked books as much as Ruby said.

She woke with a fuzzy head early on Saturday morning, and groaned as she remembered that she had a shift at the hospital.  The late shift, at that. Mary Margaret had assured her that assistants weren’t usually called on to work nights unless there were shortages of trained nurses due to illness, but they were occasionally asked to cover the shift up to midnight to deal with the weekend influx of late-night drunks.  Belle suspected Zelena had put her name down on purpose to test her mettle, but she was determined not to be intimidated. Besides, there was a new nurse due to start that day. She wouldn’t be the only one trying to find her feet.

* * *

She headed over to the hospital at around three, walking swiftly in the cold air, her breath misting before her. With some regret, she had decided to take Zelena’s advice regarding her footwear; her feet had ached terribly after her first shift, and so she had a pair of flats on and a grey dress to which she had pinned her I.D.  She had tied up her hair to keep it out of the way, too, and she stowed her coat and purse in one of the hospital lockers, almost bumping into another young woman as she turned to leave.

“Sorry!” said the woman hastily, and looked her up and down.  “Oh, maybe you can help me! It’s my first day, and I’m looking for Nurse South.”

The woman was taller than her, with shining brown hair brushed into two side braids and a bright smile.  She had an air of efficiency about her, and Belle smiled back.

“You must be Dorothy Gale,” she said.  “I’m Belle French. I’m kind of new here, but I think I remember where Glinda’s office is.”

“Oh, good,” said Dorothy fervently.  “I asked some redhead where I could find her and she rolled her eyes and said she was busy.”

“Hmm.”  Belle’s mouth flattened.  “Well, sorry about that. Follow me.”

She trotted out of the locker room, heading down the corridor to where she was ninety percent certain the offices were located.

“Starting here on a Saturday?” she remarked.  “I keep hearing horror stories about Saturday nights.  This is my first one.”

“Oh, it’ll be fine,” said Dorothy cheerfully.  “I did my training in New York. Saturday nights were the _worst_. Especially when there was a full moon.  Ten-hour shifts of nothing but gunshot wounds, blood and vomit.  Small town America can’t be any worse than that.”

* * *

Despite Dorothy’s assurance that she would be able to handle whatever Storybrooke could throw at her, Belle had worried for all of twenty minutes before she saw with some relief that her confidence was well-placed. Dorothy was calm, efficient, and dealt with the patients with firm kindness. Belle was not sure that she herself was handling things one tenth as well.

Every nurse she had spoken to had warned her about Saturday nights at the hospital, but nothing they had said had truly prepared her for what she faced.  The incoming patients were mostly male, mostly drunk, and mostly with bad attitudes and leering glances. The experienced doctors and nurses seemed to handle them with no more than an eyeroll and a sharp admonition, but for Belle the inebriation and loud cursing were too reminiscent of her father’s behaviour to be comfortable.  She busied herself fetching supplies for the nurses once each patients was settled, and filling water jugs to place on bedside tables.

Dr Gold was on shift, cool and efficient, reassuring to those who needed it and sharp with any who raised their voices.  He had not spoken to her since they had first been introduced, but he gave her a tiny smile when he saw her, his eyes crinkling, and she felt her heart thump, her breath catching.  Telling herself firmly to get on with her bloody work and stop making eyes at the poor man, she hurried away to fetch more clean linen.

One of the patients, Leroy, was a man she recognised from the diner.  He seemed to be a regular at breakfast time, sitting by himself with a surly expression and shovelling eggs and bacon into his mouth with cup after cup of Granny’s strong coffee.  He was one of the quieter drunks, having had so much that Dr Gold was concerned he would choke on his own vomit, and so he was admitted for monitoring.

Another patient was Keith Nott, who Ruby had pointed out to her in _The Rabbit Hole_.  He was tall and dark-haired, a man who Belle suspected was considered good-looking by some, but who was currently sporting two black eyes and a broken nose, blood staining the front of his T-shirt.  He was seated on the end of one of the hospital gurneys, and he looked her over more than once when she brought cotton wadding and paper stitches for Dorothy.

“Two gorgeous girls to see to my needs,” he said, his voice a little thick due to the blood in his nose.  “Must be my lucky night.”

“Not if you keep talking that way,” said Dorothy dryly.  

“Hey, come on, don’t be a tease!” he complained.  “You girls new in town? I could show you a good time, if you like.”

“Yeah, I doubt that,” said Dorothy, in a tone of indifference.  “Let’s see that arm. Whoever kicked your ass did a good job, huh?”

“Ah, you should see the other guy,” he said, with a grin.  “Out cold. Not being looked after by two lovely ladies. I reckon I’m the lucky one.”

“Is this how you talk to everyone you just met?” she asked.  “I’m beginning to see why you got punched in the face. Now hold still, this might sting.”

She plucked a piece of gravel out of a cut in his arm, and Nott roared in pain.  Dorothy rolled her eyes, and dropped the gravel into a metal dish before cleaning the wound and taping a piece of gauze over it.  She grasped his chin, tipping his head upwards.

“I’ll tape your nose in place and give you something for the pain,” she said bluntly.  “You can go home once that’s done. Let me get you some medication.”

She stomped off, and Nott curled his lip at her back.

“Fucking sadist,” he grumbled, and looked at Belle.  “You look like you have a better bedside manner. Want to give me a sponge bath?”

Belle pulled a face, feeling uncomfortable.

“I don’t think so.”

She turned to pick up the metal dish with its discarded swabs and blood-soaked cotton, and froze as she felt a hand grab her buttock and squeeze.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The hand disappeared, and Belle turned, almost breathless with relief.  Dr Gold was standing a few feet away, glowering at Nott, his eyebrows drawn down and his mouth set in a thin line.

“Hey, Doc,” said Nott, in a wheedling tone.  “Just trying to make myself feel better, okay?  No harm done.”

Dr Gold was silent for a moment.  His eyes flicked to Belle, and she returned his gaze, nodding at his unspoken question as to whether she was alright.  He stepped forward, cane clicking on the tiled floor.

“If you ever lay a hand on any member of staff in this hospital,” he said quietly.  “I will personally see to it that you are arrested, thrown in jail, and spend a lengthy amount of time contemplating how terrible your life choices were, do I make myself clear?”

“Hey, it was a joke!” protested Nott, throwing up his arms.

“I see.”  Dr Gold held his gaze.  “And how exactly was it funny? Do enlighten me.”

Nott curled his lip, mumbling something, and Dr Gold’s mouth thinned.

“As I thought,” he said witheringly.  “Miss French, would you come with me a moment?”

He turned on his heel, making his way out of the room with his brisk, uneven stride, and Belle trotted to keep up.

“Thank you,” she ventured, and he flicked his eyes across to her.

“No matter,” he said.  “If he or anyone else does that again, I’d be more than happy to report it to the sheriff. She doesn’t stand for it.”

“She?” asked Belle, and his mouth twitched.

“Ah,” he said.  “You haven’t met Sheriff Swan, then?  No doubt you will. She takes a very dim view of the men in this town making unwanted advances.  Mr Nott would in all likelihood find himself nursing that broken nose in a cell.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said, and he nodded.

“Well, I won’t keep you from your work,” he said.  “Good evening, Miss French.”

He quickened his pace, walking away from her down the corridor, and Belle slowed to a stop, staring after him. She watched his hair bounce as he walked, well aware that she was developing a serious crush on the man, and powerless to do anything about it


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Candy Striper Belle & Dr. Gold have a coffee run in at the cafetiere at the end of Belle's first week of work.

Her Saturday shift at the hospital had made Belle tired and sore, and she slept later than usual on Sunday, forgoing her usual run in favour of a brisk walk to the diner for a coffee and bear claw.  Mary Margaret and Ruby were chatting at the bar, and Belle slid onto a seat beside them to place her order.

“You look tired,” said Mary Margaret sympathetically.  “Long night, huh?”

“It was hard work,” admitted Belle.  “I’m enjoying it, though. Feels like I’m doing something worthwhile.”

“Any fights break out?” asked Ruby.  “They tend to spill over from the bar sometimes.”

“None that I saw,” said Belle, yawning.  “That Keith guy grabbed my arse, though.”

Mary Margaret and Ruby made the almost identical sounds of cats being stepped on.

“Remind me to kick him in the balls next time I see him,” said Ruby.

“Dr Gold threatened to report him to the Sheriff if he did it again,” said Belle.

“Oh, if Emma finds out he’s up to that kind of thing, _she’d_ kick him in the balls,” said Mary Margaret.

“I don’t think you’ve met Emma,” added Ruby.  “Blonde. Wears a lot of plaid. Married to Regina Mills, the Mayor.”

“The Sheriff married the Mayor?” said Belle.  “That’s kind of sweet.”

“The deputy sheriff’s also a lesbian,” added Mary Margaret.  “Mulan. She’s dating Merida, the redhead who works at the _Rabbit Hole_.”

“This town is powered by gays,” mused Ruby.

Belle giggled, and Ruby slapped her hands on the bar.

“But never mind about everyone _else’s_ love lives!” she said excitedly.  “It’s your big date tomorrow! You ready?”

“As I’ll ever be, I guess,” said Belle.

“Who are you going on a date with?” asked Mary Margaret curiously, and Ruby grinned.

“I told her I’d fix her up with a book lover, right?” she said, and leaned on the bar, eyebrows twitching as she grinned.  “Okay, so his name’s Isaac Heller, he’s a writer, he’s _always_ reading something or tapping away on his laptop when he’s in here—”

“You set her up with _Isaac_?” said Mary Margaret, in a flat tone, and Ruby spread her hands.

“What?” she protested.  “He’s a writer, a book nerd!  He could be Belle’s soulmate!”

“I’m not sure I believe in soulmates,” said Belle.  “Besides, it’s only a date. A blind one, at that.”

“Well, I told him you’d meet him here,” said Ruby.  “Seven-thirty tomorrow, okay?”

* * *

Belle tried to recall the last time she had been on a date, remembered that it was almost a year ago, and sighed to herself.  After some deliberation, she had chosen an understated outfit: a flared black skirt with a fitted white shirt and little black cardigan.  The date was at Granny’s, so at least she would be on familiar territory, and Ruby would be there to step in if it turned into a disaster.  She’d had one or two dates like that in the past, after all.

Isaac Heller was a nervous-looking man with a long, thin face, dark hair and anxious eyes.  He ordered a bottle of red wine and two glasses, delivered to the table by Ruby, who beamed at him and winked at Belle as she left.  It took about ten minutes for Belle to decide that, whether or not soulmates existed, hers was not currently sitting across from her.  Isaac was polite enough, pulling out her chair when they sat down, but agonised over the menu choices for half an hour before finally ordering the chicken parm, and then spent ten minutes wondering aloud whether the steak would have been better.

She found that she didn’t have to say much; Isaac told her all about his time travelling in New York and Boston and down into Florida, researching for his new book.  He then told her about his agent, who had told him he was the next Hemingway, although whether that was something to be proud of was a matter of opinion, in her eyes.  He then moved onto his publisher, who was being, in his words, unreasonably picky about the progress of his novel. Belle had drunk three glasses of wine by the time their food arrived, and while eating gave her something else to do with her hands, it didn’t distract Isaac from telling her the plot of his novel about a disillusioned but brilliant writer having what sounded to her like a midlife crisis.

“So let me get this straight,” said Belle, when he finally drew breath long enough to put a piece of chicken in his mouth.  “The protagonist has a gorgeous girlfriend who - apparently - caters to his every need, and he’s still not happy?”

“He’s a tortured soul,” said Isaac earnestly, leaning forward.  “Always looking for something better. A perfectionist, you see.  He’s so used to excelling at what he does, he assumes that carries over into all areas of his life.  I can relate to that.”

Belle almost choked on her wine, and her eyes watered as she tried not to splutter in amusement.  She was feeling light-headed, and it was making her lose patience.

“Okay, so Mr Perfect wants the perfect woman by his side while he writes his wish-fulfilment self-insert porn or whatever it is he’s doing—”

“It’s a future _New York Times_ bestseller...” he said indignantly

“Right,” sighed Belle, taking another drink.  “My point is - why was she attracted to him in the first place?”

Isaac blinked.  “What?”

“What does she see in him?” asked Belle.  “Why are they together?”

Isaac stared at her, fingers twitching on his napkin, his mouth open a little.

“Are you saying you don’t believe she could love him?”

“Well, I don’t really know anything about her,” Belle explained, and when he looked confused, added: “I mean, I know what she looks like, that she’s tall - but not as tall as him - and she has the body of a burlesque dancer and a beautiful face—”

“Yes!” said Isaac eagerly, nodding.  “You can see her in your mind, can’t you?”

“Well - kind of,” said Belle slowly.  “I mean she looks at herself naked and describes herself in detail so there’s that.  I can _picture_ her from the description, but I still don’t know anything _about_ her.  Other than that she’s very supportive of him and drinks latte and is oddly aware of her own breasts.”

He looked puzzled, and she sighed.

“What does she _do_?” she asked.  “What are her interests?  Who are her friends? Does she exist as a character outside her relationship with the protagonist?  Is she a _whole person_ or is she just there to get him laid and provide some manpain when she dies?”

His mouth fell open.

_“How did you know she dies?”_

She closed her eyes, reaching for her wine again.  Something told her there wouldn’t be a second date.

* * *

Belle sighed, pressing her palm to the small of her back and stretching.  They had been short-handed the past few days, and she had worked more hours than she had planned.  Her entire body ached from rushing around and carrying supplies in her first week of work, but it was a good sort of ache, the kind that came from hard work that meant something.

She still had three hours left of her shift, but Dorothy had taken one look at her and told her to go get some coffee.  She hadn’t objected, and she rolled stiff shoulders as she made her way to the cafeteria, smiling her thanks and handing over some cash in return for a mug of coffee and a maple pecan Danish.  She turned away, glancing around in vain for a vacant table.  The place was full of hospital staff chatting over coffees and tucking into cake and sandwiches, and there was only one table with a single occupant.  Belle sucked in a breath as she saw that it was Dr Gold.

He was sitting with one elbow on the table, a cup of coffee steaming in front of him and his finger and thumb rubbing at the bridge of his nose, as though his eyes were tired.  She suspected they were; he had been on shift when she had arrived, and would no doubt be there long after she had gone home to crawl into bed and think about how it might feel to kiss him.  Which seemed to be the uppermost thought in her mind every night since she had started working at the hospital.

She made a decision, stepping forward quickly to stand beside his table.

“Dr Gold,” she said, and he looked up, dark eyes heavy.

“Miss French,” he said.  “How are you settling in?”

“Um - okay, I guess,” she said.  “Do you mind if I sit down?  There’s a shortage of free tables.”

“Oh, of course.”  He gestured to the seat opposite.  “Be my guest.  I’ll be leaving soon, anyway.”

She slid into the seat, setting down her coffee and Danish.

“We could split it, if you like,” she said, and he glanced at the pastry with a spark of interest in his eyes, but shook his head.

“Coffee’s all I need.”

She privately thought he could do with eating a few decent meals and working fewer hours, but she said nothing.  She tore off a piece of the pastry, putting it in her mouth and licking sticky glaze from her fingers.  He was eyeing her over the rim of his coffee cup as he sipped at it, and she sucked a few crumbs from her thumb.

“Apologies for my messy eating,” she said.

“That’s quite alright.”  He set down his cup.  “I’ve seen you running around the place, I suspect you could use the energy.”

“Yeah.”

She tore off another piece and popped it in her mouth, making a noise of enjoyment at the rich taste of the buttery pastry and the maple-coated pecans.  Dr Gold took another sip of his coffee.

“How are you enjoying working here?” he asked.

“Oh, it’s been - well, it’s been hard work, and I feel like I don’t know what the hell I’m doing, but it’s been fun,” she said, and he gave her a tiny smile.

“Well, the feeling of not knowing what the hell you’re doing never fully goes away, if it’s any comfort,” he said.

“But you’re a doctor,” she said.  “ _The_ doctor, from what I hear.  The most experienced in this place.”

“And none of us are infallible,” he said.  “More’s the pity.”

He drained his cup, setting it down with a clunk, and pushed to his feet with the aid of his cane.

“I’ll leave you to your snack,” he said.  “Good evening, Miss French.  And welcome aboard.”

He shook back his hair, nodded to her once, and strode off with his swift, limping stride.  Belle watched him go, sighing to herself.  Her crush on the man was intense, all-consuming, and apparently wholly unrequited.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Since there's a Nurse Dorothy Gale then I have to prompt Ruby bringing Belle lunch and Nurse Gale catching her eye."
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "Dr. Gold needs a bit of convincing to actually end his shift and go home - despite his well crafted arguments. Perhaps there is a unusual staff member that could finally persuade him before he's commanded to go home"

****Belle had Tuesday off, and she spent her time exploring the town, sharing an iced tea with Ruby at Granny’s and picking through the book selection at the local thrift store.  She walked through the park in the afternoon, smiling at the sounds of local children playing on the swings, bundled up in scarves and gloves and colourful hats. The sun was out, frost sparkling on the ground, and she had her hands deep in the pockets of her coat, a scarf wrapped around her chin to keep out the cold.  An old man was making his way towards her, wrapped in a long coat with a black felt hat on his head, white beard twitching as he approached one of the benches. Belle watched as he reached into the pocket of his coat, pulling out a book and promptly dropping it.

“Oh, let me get that for you!” she said hastily, trotting over, and bent to pick it up.

The old man smiled, bowing his head.

“Thank you, miss,” he said, in a low voice.  “Not as limber as I used to be.”

Belle turned the book over in her hands.

“ _Lord of the Rings_?” she said.  “It’s been years since I read this.”

“I read it once a year, in winter,” said the man.  “Sort of a ritual, you see. On sunny days like this I like to take some exercise around the park, sit on the bench until it’s too cold and then get a coffee at Granny’s.  When you’re retired, it’s good to get out of the house.”

“What was your work?” she asked, and he smiled, his eyes crinkling.

“I taught at the elementary school,” he said.  “Oh, years ago now, but I enjoyed it. I’ve seen the kids I taught grow up and have kids of their own.  Makes you feel old.”

“Must have been rewarding, though, sharing knowledge and encouraging children to read and grow,” said Belle.  “I had plans to be a librarian when I left college.”

“Oh?” he said, interested.  “What happened?”

She shrugged.

“Life,” she said, a little gloomily.  “Couldn’t find work, and had to move back with my dad.  I’m working up at the hospital at the moment. Just helping out, but it’s enjoyable.  Worthwhile, you know?”

“Ah,” he said.  “I was in there not so long back with my hip.  Wonderful staff. A little lacking in reading material, though.  Mostly magazines.”

He lifted his book, with a somewhat rueful smile, and Belle chewed her lip thoughtfully.

“Well, maybe I could do something about that,” she said, an idea starting to take form in her mind.  “It was lovely to meet you. I’m Belle French, by the way.”

He touched his hat, his beard twitching as he smiled.

“Alfred Prentice, at your service.”

* * *

The sunny weather didn’t last, the rain returning by Thursday and turning to sleet, but Belle was busy at the hospital and barely noticed.  She had decided to take Mr Prentice’s comments about a lack of reading material on board, and so she had returned to the thrift store and bought all the decent-quality novels they had.  Getting them to the hospital had meant persuading her father to give her a lift when he was out making deliveries, but as flowers were ordered for patients on a regular basis, they were able to kill two birds with one stone.  The locker room now had three boxes of books stacked in a corner, and Belle had hunted around for something that she could use to transport them around the wards, eventually borrowing an old cart from the janitor. She hadn’t bothered to discuss the book collection with Zelena, instead going straight to Glinda South, who was Zelena’s senior.  Glinda was a warm, pleasant woman, who could see the benefit to patients being able to access reading material, and was only too happy for Belle to run the scheme.

Belle was in the process of arranging books into genres in the patients’ waiting area, separating romance from fantasy, horror from history.  She chewed her lip as she looked over the titles she had managed to gather together. _I need more children’s books on this thing.  The kids are sometimes in this place the longest._

“Here you go-o!”

Ruby’s sing-song voice made Belle look around, and she smiled as she saw Ruby standing with a wide grin on her face and a paper bag swinging from one hand.

“Pastrami with tomato and hot mustard, just as you like it.”

“God, you’re an angel,” sighed Belle.  “I’m starving!”

“Figured you’d forget to eat lunch if I didn’t remind you,” said Ruby cheerfully.  “Too much dedication’s a bad thing. You make my half-assy waitressing look bad. Take a break.”

Belle smiled, nodding, and stacked the pile of books she had been sorting on the cart.  Ruby looked them over with interest as she handed Belle her sandwich.

“You running a library in this place?”

“Well, kind of,” said Belle.  “I bought a bunch of books from the thrift store, and added some of my own - the patients don’t get to read unless someone brings in material, so I figured this would help.”

She bit into the sandwich, mouth watering, and let out a tiny moan of pleasure as the heat of the mustard and the salt of the pastrami bathed her tongue.

“That’s _so_ good,” she said, in a muffled voice.

“Hey, Belle.”

Dorothy’s voice made her look around.

“When you’re done with lunch, could you bring some fresh linens to the kids’ ward?” she asked, flicking dark braids back over her shoulders.  “Grace threw up again, and if I have to clean up another pile of vomit I think I’ll kill myself.”

Belle giggled.

“Not a problem.”

Dorothy sent her a grateful smile, eyes flicking to Ruby, and she nodded a greeting before stomping off in the direction of the children’s ward.  Belle took another bite of her sandwich, noticing that Ruby’s eyes had gone very wide in her face.

“Who’s _that_?” asked Ruby.

“Oh, that’s Dorothy,” said Belle carelessly.  “Nurse Gale to you.”

She gave Ruby a cheeky grin, and Ruby shook her head, huffing out air as she fanned herself with a hand.

“She could check me for a fever anytime,” she remarked.  “How come I haven’t seen her before?”

“New in town,” said Belle.  “I could ask her out for you, if you like.  Couldn’t go any worse than the date you arranged for me.”

Ruby sighed.

“Okay, I admit Isaac was a disaster,” she said.  “Don’t lose heart, okay? We’ll find someone who’s _perfect_.”

“And in the meantime I can pass on your fondest regards to Dorothy,” said Belle, with a grin.

“Oh no, don’t do that,” said Ruby hastily.  “What if she doesn’t like me?”

“Only way to find out is ask.”

“You’ve never asked a girl out, have you?” said Ruby dryly.  “It takes at least two years of politeness and mutual pining before one of you gets brave or drunk enough to make the first move.”

“Sounds way too complicated,” said Belle.  “But have it your way. Maybe I can see if she wants to come on a girls’ night.”

Ruby perked up.

“That would be okay.”

* * *

Belle found that she had to bow out of the Friday night get-together when she was asked to work a double shift that weekend.  An outbreak of flu was spreading through the town, and several of the hospital staff had been struck down, leaving everyone else overworked.  Belle rushed along the corridor, carrying an armful of fresh linen and trying to ignore her aching feet. She had worked four days in a row, and hoped that no more of the staff would succumb to the illness.  They were short-handed as it was, and things were only getting worse as the weather turned colder.

For most of the residents of Storybrooke, staying in their own homes and drinking plenty of fluids was enough, but this strain of the flu had been particularly nasty, taking its toll on the weak and sick, the young and the elderly.  She bit her lip as she saw old Mr Prentice being wheeled along on a gurney, eyes closed above his white beard, looking drawn and tired. Wishing him a speedy recovery, she hurried along to the children’s ward, pushing open the door and almost knocking Dorothy on her back.  Belle apologised quickly, but Dorothy shook her head.

“It’s okay, we’ve all been here too long, I think,” she said wearily, and glanced over her shoulder.  “Especially him. Do me a favour and see if you can get him to go home and get some rest. The guy’s been here eighteen hours at least.”

Belle peered over her shoulder.  Dr Gold was reading a chart at the end of little Grace Milliner’s bed and frowning.  He looked exhausted, but she knew full well that he was always the first to arrive and the last to leave.  Getting him out of there wouldn’t be easy.

“I’m done for the day, anyway,” added Dorothy.  “Gonna go home and try to get a whole six hours of sleep before we do this again.”

She patted Belle’s shoulder and wandered off down the corridor, and Belle hurried over to Dr Gold’s side, setting down the armful of linen.

“You look like death,” she said, not unkindly.

Dr Gold glanced up.  His eyes were dark hollows in his face, his cheeks drawn, but he smiled briefly.

“Miss French,” he said.  “I had no idea you were still here.  Shouldn’t you be at home?”

“You’re one to talk,” she said, and he shrugged.

“There’s too much work here.”

“Yeah, and it’ll still be here after you’ve actually had some rest,” she said firmly.  “You know Dr Whale’s on shift now, right? Let him take over.”

“With new patients coming in every hour?” he said dismissively.  “Don’t be ridiculous.”

He turned away, hooking the chart over the end of the bed and reaching over to feel Grace’s forehead.  He frowned again, and Belle sighed.

“Look, you know you have to sleep sometime,” she said reasonably.  “Sleep deprivation can lead to mistakes, everyone knows that.”

“I just need more coffee,” he said repressively.  “If you want to be useful, why don’t you go get me one?  And then you can go home, you look dead on your feet.”

He walked to the next bed, picking up the chart and fumbling it.  Belle caught it before it hit the floor, and he sighed and ran a hand over his face.

“Go.  Home,” she said firmly.  “Eight hours, that’s all I ask.  If you don’t rest, your immune system will be throwing a welcome party for that flu virus, and you know it.  How much good is it gonna do your patients if you’re too sick to tend to them?”

Dr Gold’s face appeared to go through the five stages of grief, but eventually he sighed heavily.

“Fine, you win,” he said, in a defeated tone.  “Get your coat.”

Belle blinked.

“My - my coat?”

“Well, if I’m leaving, so are you,” he said tersely.  “Or are you too stubborn to take your own advice? I’m driving you home. Meet me outside the main entrance.  Ten minutes.”

He stomped off with an air of irritation, and Belle gaped after him.  He was driving her _home_?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: “Belle worries when Dr Gold doesn’t show up for work”

Belle changed quickly, offering a hurried goodbye to Dorothy as she made her way to the main entrance.  It was late, and she shivered as she tugged her coat around herself, tucking her chin into her scarf. After a minute or two she heard the familiar tap of Dr Gold’s cane, and she looked around with a smile, which froze on her face as he came into view.

Belle was the first to admit - if only to herself - that Dr Gold was a handsome man.  Perhaps not in the traditional masculine sense, being not much taller than she, and slight.  But he had excellent bone structure, long, delicate fingers, and soft, shining hair that she had spent way too long daydreaming about running her fingers through.  Up to that point, she had only ever seen him in blue scrubs and a lab coat, usually with a distracted look on his face. As he left the hospital for home, however, she was getting to see what he wore when he was not at work.  A slim-fitting suit above shining black leather shoes, a silk shirt in a deep crimson, and a darker tie knotted about his throat. A woollen overcoat kept the wind from him, and he nodded to her as he drew close. Belle snapped her mouth shut immediately, telling herself to stop bloody staring.

“Miss French,” he said, and gestured towards the parking lot.  “My car’s this way.”

Belle had seen Dr Whale’s car, a flashy red Camaro with a sleek body and a very loud engine.  She half-expected Dr Gold to drive a sports car too, and was pleasantly surprised to find that he had an old Cadillac, all shining black paint and chrome.  He opened the door for her, and she got into the passenger seat, buckling up as he started the engine. She watched his knuckles clench over the gear lever, and he shook his hair back as he glanced at her.

“You’ll have to tell me where to go,” he said.

“Oh, it’s Avonlea Street,” she said hurriedly.  “If you drive out past Marine Garage it’s the third on the left.  House at the end.”

“Right.”

He set off, the car engine purring as it pulled out of the hospital parking lot.  Snow was beginning to fall, pattering against the windows, and he turned on the wipers, white flakes gleaming in the light as they fell.  Dr Gold was silent, and Belle kept sneaking looks across at him. He looked desperately tired, his eyes hollow, and she hoped that he would be able to get some sleep.

He almost missed the turning, and she thought he must be running on autopilot, no doubt heading to his own house, wherever that was.

“Sorry,” he said wearily.  “For a moment there I’d forgotten I was supposed to be taking you home.”

“Figured,” she said cheerfully.  “Where’s home for you?”

“Oh, I live out on Longbourn Drive,” he said.  “Salmon-pink house, green porch. I’m told the colour scheme is unusual, but I’m rather fond of it.”

“Huh.”  She pursed her lips.  “Dad says that he keeps meaning to paint our place.  I’m thinking maybe a nice creamy yellow, or something.  Cheer us up.”

“Hardly the weather for exterior decorating,” he remarked, looking out at the falling snow, and she sighed.

“Yeah, it’s gonna have to wait until spring,” she agreed, and gestured out of the window.  “That’s my place, there.”

Dr Gold drew to a stop, and she unbuckled her belt, glancing across at him.

“Thanks for the ride,” she said.  “Now, you’re not going back to the hospital, are you?  You’re going to get some rest, like you promised.”

“Yes ma’am,” he said, looking amused, and she gave him a flat look.

“I’m serious,” she said.  “You’ll make yourself sick if you don’t rest.  Eat something hot and get to bed.”

“Well, I should probably tell you the same thing,” he said.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, Miss French.”

“You can call me Belle, you know,” she said.  “Miss French is incredibly formal.”

“As am I, alas,” he said with a grin, and she sighed.

“It makes me sound as though we’re at a 1940s tea dance.”

“I don’t see me ever doing much dancing,” he said dryly, patting his bad leg.

“You know what I mean.”  She shrugged out of the belt, picking up her purse.  “Well, goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Miss French.”

Rolling her eyes, she got out of the car, shivering as snowflakes gusted into her face.  She hurried up the path to her front door, glancing over her shoulder to his car pull away, and wondered if he would indeed go home to get some sleep, or whether she would return to the hospital to find him more tired than ever.

* * *

The snow had continued to fall during the night, and it lay thick upon the ground the next day, the sky slate grey with the promise of more to come.  Belle trudged to the hospital in thick boots, wrapped up in scarf and gloves and a black cloche hat pulled down over her ears. The hospital was hectic, nurses running to and fro as they tried to deal with the latest flu victims, and Belle tried to help out with fetching supplies and calming distressed children.  She had kept an eye out for Dr Gold, but hadn’t seen him, and as the time grew near the end of her shift, she began to worry.

“Does Dr Gold have the day off?” she asked Zelena.  “I thought he was on shift today.”

“Whatever time he chooses to take off is none of your business,” she said sharply, pale eyes flashing.

“Don’t be a dick, Zelena,” said Dorothy flatly, and turned to Belle.  “He was due to work today, but I haven’t seen him since I got here. Guess maybe he decided to take a day off to rest.  God knows the man could use it.”

“It’s not like him not to say anything, though,” said Belle.  “Maybe he’s sick.”

“What, like you know him so well?” said Zelena sarcastically.  “Go and make yourself useful by changing the beds in ward two, will you?”

She stomped off, and Belle rolled her eyes at her back.

“Ignore her,” said Dorothy.  “Isn’t your shift over? Go get some rest, we could use you back here and firing on all cylinders tomorrow.”

Belle nodded, going to change and pulling on her winter clothes once more.  It appeared she had a visit to make.

* * *

She reached his house as the snow was starting to fall again, the walk there through heavy drifts making her legs ache.  It was already getting dark, the streetlights sending a wan glow across the pale covering of snow, and her feet were growing cold despite her thick boots.  Dr Gold’s house appeared through the driving snow, and she looked it over. Salmon pink with a green porch, just as he had said. Not what she would have expected from Gold, except for the Victorian styling.  He was a man with one foot in the past, she felt. Traditional at heart, despite his skills in modern medicine. Polite and well-mannered. Far _too_ well-mannered, if you asked her.  She wouldn’t have been in the least bit upset if he had cornered her in the supply closet and kissed her senseless, but she imagined he wasn’t the impulsive type.  Unfortunately.

His Cadillac was parked in the driveway, a light shining in the lamp on the porch, and for a moment she hesitated, wondering what the hell she was doing.  So what if he hadn’t come to work that day? Perhaps he had decided to take the day off to rest. He could easily have called Dr Whale or someone else at the hospital, and there would be no reason for her to be informed.  What the hell was she up to, turning up on his doorstep at six in the evening in the driving snow?

It was almost enough to make her turn around and head home, but she reasoned that she had come this far, and there was little point in backing out now.  If she made a fool of herself, so be it. She trotted up the steps onto the porch and knocked on the door before she could lose her nerve. There was silence, and she waited, bouncing nervously on her toes.  No lights came on in the house, and she wondered if he was even in, although given the weather it would have been strange for him to have ventured out. She knocked again, and when there was still no sign of life, she bent to peer through the glass.  It was possible to make out a hallway and set of stairs through the rippled glass, and her eyes widened as she saw what looked like his cane, lying on the floor at the foot of the stairs. A dark shape lay beyond, and her heart thumped in her chest.

“Dr Gold!” she called.  “Dr Gold, are you okay?”

There was no answer, and the dark shape didn’t move.  She could feel her panic rising, and she pushed back from the door, wondering what to do.  Desperately, she tried to think of way to get inside the house, and she lifted the mat, cursing as no spare key was revealed.  Feeling along the top of the door frame didn’t reveal one either, and she was beginning to despair of ever finding a way in when she spied the potted shrubs off to the side.  She lifted each one in turn, finding a key under the third, and hissed in satisfaction. The door squeaked as it opened, and she stepped inside the hallway, heart thumping.

It was a relief to find that the dark shape on the floor was nothing more than Dr Gold’s overcoat, discarded beside his cane.  The house was silent, and Belle closed and locked the door behind her.

“Dr Gold?” she called.  “It’s Belle. Are you okay?”

Silence, but for the low, monotonous ticking of clocks.  She looked off to the right, where a darkened lounge displayed shadowed chairs and a couch with numerous cushions.  Beyond that was a dining room, polished wooden table surrounded by eight chairs, dark and empty. The kitchen was also lifeless, and she turned her head to the stairs, running her eyes up the flight to the landing above.

“Dr Gold?” she called again, and reached out with a little hesitancy, grasping the banister with one hand as she did so.

She made her way up slowly, heart thumping in her chest, and paused as she heard a thump ahead of her.  Licking her lips nervously, she rounded the top of the stairs, and almost screamed as a figure loomed out of the darkness.  Dr Gold was half-naked, loose pants on his lower half, his thin chest bare. She could see his ribs, slatted beneath lightly-tanned skin, his nipples dark spots atop lean pectoral muscles.  His hair was hanging in his face, his eyes dull, and stubble covered his cheeks and chin.

“Dr Gold,” she said softly, and he seemed to see her for the first time.

“Miss French,” he whispered.  “What are you doing here?”

“I - I came to see how you were,” she said numbly.  “You didn’t show up at work.”

“Ah.”  He swayed on his feet, gripping at the door frame.  “Not feeling so good.”

Belle frowned, and pressed a hand to his forehead, hissing at the temperature of his skin.

“You have a fever,” she said.  “I _told_ you you’d get the flu if you didn’t rest!”

“Yes,” he said wearily.  “Yes, you’re very wise. Excuse me.”

He staggered past, hands braced against the wall as he dragged his injured leg, slipping into what she presumed was the bathroom and closing the door.  Belle chewed her lip, thinking rapidly. She went back downstairs and into the kitchen, filling a glass jug with water and carrying it back upstairs with her.  His cane was retrieved on the way, and as she reached the top he emerged from the bathroom. She handed the cane to him.

“I looked through your door and saw this on the floor and your coat next to it,” she said.  “I thought something must have happened.”

“I’ll be alright,” he said, shivering.

She got on one side of him with the water jug in her hand, giving him some support as he limped into the bedroom.  A lamp on the nightstand sent out a warm light, casting deep shadows around the room, and Belle helped him to the bed, a large, ornate thing with an elaborately-carved headboard.  He lay back with a sigh of relief, and she set down the water jug, refilling the glass he had and pulling the blankets up over him. He was shivering, and she felt his forehead again, making him let out a low groan at the touch of her hand.

“That’s wonderfully cold,” he said.  “Everything hurts.”

“Well, it’s bound to,” she said.  “Did you take anything?”

He shook his head, and she sighed.

“Okay, wait there.”

“Where am I gonna go?” he asked irritably, and she rolled her eyes.

“Drink some water,” she ordered, and stalked out, leaving him muttering.

 _Doctors_ , she thought.  _Always the worst patients._

She went down to the kitchen, and looked in a few cupboards before finding a box with medicines.  Fishing out some ibuprofen, she carried them upstairs. A quick look in the bathroom revealed a cotton washcloth, and she wet it with water, wringing it out and going back into the bedroom.  Dr Gold was lying in bed, glassy-eyed and shivering, and she pushed two tablets from their blister packs and held them out to him.

“This should ease the aches and pains,” she said.

“I’m perfectly capable of deciding whether I need painkillers,” he said ungraciously, and she rolled her eyes.

“Come on, there’s no point in suffering if you don’t have to.”

Dr Gold sighed, nodded, and took the pills from her, swallowing them down with some water.  He lay back against the pillows with a sigh, and Belle laid the wet cloth across his forehead, making him let out a moan of pleasure that, in more intimate circumstances, she would have been delighted to have been the cause of.

“God, that feels amazing!” he murmured.  “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

She used the cloth to wipe his face, ears and neck before laying the cloth over his forehead again, and Dr Gold growled in appreciation.

“Did you eat anything today?” she asked, and he shook his head.  “Okay, I’m going to have a look in your kitchen and see what I can find, okay?”

“Not hungry.”

“You still need to eat,” she said firmly.  “I’m not gonna make you devour a three-course meal, just eat something nourishing.”

“You’re a bloody tyrant!” he muttered, but without any heat, and she smirked, pushing to her feet.

“I’ll be back upstairs soon,” she added.  “Drink some water.”

He grumbled something, and she went out of the room, her tiredness having disappeared like smoke.  He could bloody well have someone take care of him for a change.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Gold has a naughty dream about Belle while she's caring for him.
> 
> Anonymous prompted: What if a snowstorm leaves KOL Belle stuck at Gold's longer than she expected? Overnight, perhaps...

Dr Gold was very rarely sick, but when it happened his immune system always seemed to capitulate completely and he’d end up feeling worse than anyone in the town.  Or at least that’s how it felt to him.  He had first started to think that something was wrong when he had no appetite for dinner and had been overwhelmed by fatigue.  He had drunk a glass of brandy and gone to bed early, hoping a decent night's sleep would chase away whatever was stalking him, but when his bladder woke him at five-thirty he could barely stand, and had to accept that he had the flu.  He telephoned Dr Whale immediately, who assured him that his patients were as well as could be expected.  He then called Dr Milliner, who told him to get back to fucking bed and stop being a control freak.

Gold had spent the remainder of the day curled up in bed shaking, wrapped in blankets and trying to remember to keep drinking water.  There were drawbacks to living alone, and nursing oneself through illness was one of them.  He had tried to prepare for the next few days as well as he could; a box of tissues sat on the nightstand, along with paracetamol to relieve his fever, and the water jug and glass.  He knew he needed to eat, but he couldn't face anything, and he had neither the energy nor the inclination to prepare a meal.

When Miss French had arrived, letting herself into his house and climbing the stairs uninvited, he had thought she was an hallucination.  She had certainly seemed like the product of his fevered imagination, with her soft voice and her perfect lips and her blue eyes filled with tenderness.  The touch of her cool hand on his brow had felt like heaven, and he had been more than content to lie back and let her press a damp cloth to his face and neck.  She had informed him that she was going to make him something to eat, and although he had no appetite, he was determined to eat whatever she cooked.  It didn’t seem fair that she had done a full day’s work and was now looking after him, too, but he couldn’t deny that it was a comfort to have her there.

He was aware that she had no medical training, but she would have made an excellent nurse.  She had the right mix of empathy, the ability to calm and comfort, and the refusal to take any of his shit.  It was all rather alluring, and if he hadn't felt as though he was knocking at Death's door he might have spent longer contemplating exactly how he felt about that.  As it was, he lay still, waiting for her to return.  There was silence from down in the kitchen, and he closed his eyes, turning his head to find a cool spot on the pillow as he tugged the blankets close around his neck.  She would return soon, and he could tell her to get home and get some rest.

“I wasn’t sure what you’d like.”

He smiled slightly at the sound of her voice, and opened his eyes a crack.  She was standing in front of him, fingers plucking at the buttons of her blouse.  His eyes widened as she began to unfasten them, revealing smooth, pale skin and a white lace bra.  Dark curls gleamed in the light, falling softly around her milky shoulders.  Her eyes seemed wider and darker, her chest heaving a little, lips shining wetly.

"I wasn't sure what you'd like," she repeated softly.  “So I thought I’d give you all of it."

She slipped off the blouse, letting it fall.  He tried to speak, but something had stolen his voice and made his body freeze.  She slowly unfastened the bra, revealing firm, perfect breasts with nipples the colour of pale roses.  He tried to lick his lips, his mouth dry, and she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it.  She wore no underwear, and his eyes roamed over her curves, trying to commit her form to memory, the long lines of her limbs, the dark curls shining around her shoulders, the hollow of her waist and the soft cleft between her thighs.  He could feel himself hardening at the sight of her, desire he had thought long-dead surging to life within him.  She climbed onto the bed, crawling up until she was leaning over him.

“I’ll give you anything,” she whispered, and bent her head to kiss him.

“Dr Gold?”

He woke with a start, sucking in a breath as his eyes flew open.  Belle French was gazing at him from the doorway, fully dressed with her hair tied back off her face and a wide smile, and there he was, curled up in the blankets with a raging erection like some old pervert.

“I made some soup,” she said.  “I’ll bring you some up in a second, I just thought you might want some more water.”

“Yes.”  He fumbled at the blankets, thankful he hadn’t kicked them off and exposed the evidence of his fevered mind.  “Yes, thank you.  Could you put some ice in it?”   _And then throw it at my crotch, please?_

She sent him another bright smile, which only made him feel more like a worthless fool, and snatched up the water jug.  She trotted away again, and he lay back against the pillows with a groan, willing his cock to go back to sleep.  Clearly the fever had turned his head.

* * *

Belle had managed to find her way around Dr Gold's kitchen, and it was a treat to find it both well-stocked and spotlessly clean.  She wondered if he had help in that, and remembered that Ruby had said something about Ashley Boyd cleaning for him.  Hardly surprising given the long hours he worked.  His fridge was not what she would have expected of a man who lived alone; there were plenty of fresh vegetables, cheeses, cooked meats and condiments.  He also owned an impressive collection of cookware, and she gathered together the ingredients to make a hearty vegetable and lentil soup.  It tasted good, rich with chicken stock and fragrant with thyme and sage.

She found a hand blender in the drawer, and pulsed the soup until it thickened, ladling some into a bowl and setting it on a tray with some buttered bread.  She wasn’t sure that Dr Gold would eat the bread, but if not she could always have it herself.  She had already taken him up some iced water and checked his fever.  He was burning up, but that was only to be expected, and had seemed surprised by her presence, as though he had forgotten she was there in his house.  With any luck the medication she had given him would ease his aches and pains, and the soup would give him strength.

She carried the tray upstairs, pushing open the bedroom door with her rear and entering the darkened room.  He was a huddled mass in the blankets, and she transferred the tray to one arm as she fumbled for the switch on the bedside lamp.  Light flooded out, and Dr Gold seemed to wake with a jerk, a flailing arm knocking the tray and sending hot soup all over her.

* * *

Gold had been dozing, feverish visions running through his mind, but sudden light dragged him from sleep, his body aching, his mind groggy.  He jerked in protest, and a shriek of pain drove away any lingering drowsiness, consciousness returning like a full-armed slap to the face.  He opened his eyes wide to see Miss French almost throwing an empty tray onto the floor and peeling off her shirt, exposing her lace bra and the pale skin of her arms and torso, her chest and belly reddened.  There was a smell of savoury - something - in the air. _Vegetable soup?_ Hot _vegetable soup.  Oh God…_

“I’m sorry!” he gasped.  “Did I - what did I do?”

She was already running from the room, skirt swishing around her legs, and he flopped back against the pillows with a groan, fumbling around for the wet washcloth she had been kind enough to leave across his fevered brow, which was now tucked beside his neck, turning his pillow damp.  The sound of running water started up from the bathroom, and he looked to the side of the bed, spying a discarded tray, an upside-down plate with what looked like bread and butter (butter side down, naturally) and an empty bowl.  Her blouse was on the floor next to it, covered in soup, and he groaned again.   _Great.  She cares for you, mops your brow, makes you soup, and as a thank you, you give her second degree burns.  Fucking idiot!_

He tried to push himself up, feeling as weak as a day-old kitten.

“Miss French?” he called.  “Are you alright?”

The water was still running, and he pushed back the covers, getting to his feet and almost falling on his arse. _Bloody flu!_   He groped for his cane, arms shaking as he got it under him, and stumbled towards the bedroom door just as the sound of the water shut off.  It took him two attempts to turn the handle, and as he opened the door Miss French came back in, a towel wrapped around her beneath her arms and a wide-eyed look of surprise on her face.  His mouth fell open, his heart thumping.  Her hair was damp, curls sticking to her skin, and for a moment he wondered what she would look like if he took the towel from her.  If she smiled at him and stepped forward and let it fall, putting her arms around him and raising her head to kiss him.

“I - I hope you don’t mind,” she said apologetically, clutching the towel tighter.  “It - it was really hot, and I knew I had to get cold water on the burns straight away.  Showering was the fastest thing I could think of.”

“Of - of course,” he managed, clutching the cane handle as though it was the only thing sustaining him.  “I’m so sorry.  Clumsy of me.”

“Oh, it was an accident,” she said hastily, looking up at him through thick lashes.  “Really, it’s not so bad.  I think I caught it in time, it just stings a little.”

He nodded, relieved, and she frowned at him.

“And you shouldn’t be out of bed,” she said severely.  “Get back there.  I’ll clean this lot up and get you a fresh bowl.”

“Right,” he said, his tone meek, and shuffled back to bed.

“I’m gonna need to borrow something to wear,” she added.  “You mind if I take your shirt?  I’ll wash it afterwards, I promise.”

He froze, a ripple of desire going through him at the thought of her wearing something of his.

“Of course,” he said.  “Take whatever you need.”

She snagged his shirt from the chair, hooking the silk over one finger, and ducked out of the room again, headed for the bathroom.  He got into bed, shaking hands pulling the covers up to his chest.  Visions of her were flitting through his mind and causing mischief: the sight of her pale skin and her breasts cupped by white lace, all too similar to the highly inappropriate dream his fevered mind had conjured up.  He wondered how old she was.  Twenties?  Mid-twenties at most, which meant that he was old enough to be her father, and if she had realised the direction his thoughts had taken, she would have slapped his face and stormed out.  He shook his head, reaching for the damp washcloth.  It appeared that it wasn't just his brow that needed cooling.

* * *

Belle put her skirt and underwear back on and shrugged on Dr Gold’s shirt, the silk feeling delicious against her skin.  It smelt of his cologne, and the faint muskiness of his own scent, and she fastened the buttons down the front and tied it in a knot at the waist before going back into the bedroom and picking up her discarded, soup-covered blouse.  Gold was lying with the wet cloth over his eyes, the blankets pulled up to his chin, and Belle shook her head fondly.  The man was clearly suffering, and she hoped that the little she could do would bring him some comfort.

She went downstairs to fetch a fresh bowl of soup, and Gold managed to sit up when she returned, a somewhat sheepish look on his face as she handed him the bowl, along with fresh bread and butter.  He wouldn't quite meet her eyes, and she figured he felt bad for throwing soup all over her.  She left him eating, going to fetch a bowl of soapy water, sponge and cloths to mop up the spilt soup and clear it from the rug.  The rug would need a proper clean, but she did the best she could, hearing the clink of his spoon in the bowl as she worked.

“This is very good,” he ventured, and she looked up, raising an eyebrow.

“Can you actually taste anything?” she asked, with a grin.

“Okay, not much,” he admitted.  “But it’s hot and I’m sure it’s doing me good.”

“Well, there’s plenty more,” she said, turning back to sponging the rug clean.

“You should have some.”

“I will, I just need to do this and then wash my things.”

There was silence for a moment, except for the scrape of his spoon.  Belle cleared up the last of the soup, rinsing her sponge in the bowl of soapy water and straightening up.

“You should get home,” he said, mopping soup with the bread and butter.  “You don’t need to stay here with me, I’ll be alright.”

“Snow’s come down thick,” she said.  “Pretty sure if I tried to walk, I’d freeze to death.  I’m afraid you’re stuck with me.”

He eyed her over his spoon, dark eyes unreadable.

“I’m sorry your shift carried on this long,” he said wryly, and Belle giggled.

“I don’t mind, really,” she said.  “As long as you don’t mind me staying.  Is there a spare room?”

“Three,” he said, scooping up the last of the soup.  “Take your pick.  All the beds are made up.”

“Big house for one person,” she remarked.

“Yes,” he said, after a pause.  “I like it, though.”

“Oh, it’s lovely,” she said hastily.  “Your kitchen’s great.  Do you cook a lot?”

He let the soup bowl rest in his lap, looking at her with a spark of interest.

“Actually, I do,” he said.  “Food is vital to health, wouldn’t you say?”

“I would.”  She leaned in to take the bowl from him, pressing a hand to his forehead and frowning.  “You’re still burning up.  Is there anything I can give you for the fever?”

“I have medication here, and I'll take some before I go to sleep,” he said.  “Please, go and eat.  I don’t want you to get sick too.”

Belle smiled at him, taking the empty plate and bowl from him and watching as he slid down beneath the blankets once more.  She went downstairs, taking a few minutes to call her father and let him know she wouldn't be home.  He seemed unworried that she was stuck with, in her words 'a sick friend', merely telling her that he didn't want the flu and that she was a fool for exposing herself to it.  Belle rolled her eyes before telling him there were eggs and bacon for breakfast, but that she wouldn't be home to cook it.  He grumbled at that, but rang off without another word, and she sighed in annoyance.

She washed the few dishes in the sink and, after some exploration, found the washing machine and dryer in the basement.  She put her skirt and blouse in the washing machine with some soap, noting that the basement was as clean and orderly as the rest of the house, gardening implements hanging from hooks on the walls and a workbench clear of clutter.  Once back in the kitchen, she heated up some of the soup for herself, eaten seated at the kitchen table with buttered bread to dip in.  The house was silent but for the low ticking of clocks on the wall and out in the hallway.  It was getting late, and she finished up her soup and washed her dishes, stacking them on the drainer.

When she returned to the basement, the washing machine had finished its cycle, and she hung her blouse and skirt up to dry, hoping it would shake loose some of the creases.  She could wash her underwear in the bathroom, and have a clean outfit to wear to work the next day.  The hours of being on her feet were taking their toll, and so she went back upstairs with some ice in a glass to add to Dr Gold's water jug.  When she entered his room he was huddled in the blankets again, but he sat up to take two pills and swallow them down with some water.

“I’ll be right next door,” she said soothingly.  “Just call if you need anything.”

He sent her a crooked little smile that made her heart thump.

“Thank you,” he said sincerely.  “You should consider a career in nursing, Miss French. You’re a natural.”

“I actually studied library science,” she said.  “Not a lot of calling for that in Storybrooke, though.  Maybe I’ll consider it.”

She straightened up, laying the cool cloth over his forehead again.

“And it’s Belle,” she added.  “You’ve seen me in my bra, I think we’ve gone beyond formality.”

She stomped off, leaving him making a sort of choking noise behind her, and grinned to herself.  He’d get used to it.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @virgidearie prompted: "Gold has a fever peak during the night and starts to be delirious in his sleep. Belle can't help joining him in the bed to hold him and whisper soothing words..."
> 
> @magicalprincess-love prompted: "Zelena shows up next morning...Belle answers door in Gold’s shirt"

It was times like this that Belle wished she kept a spare toothbrush in her bag.  She sighed, opening the bathroom cabinet to see if there was at least some mouthwash in there that she could use.  To her surprise there was a new toothbrush in a plastic packet on the top shelf, and she resolved to use it and replace it with another as soon as she could.  Teeth cleaned, she washed her underwear in the sink, squeezing out the excess water when she was done and draping her tights and panties over the heated towel rail to dry.  She then made her way to the bedroom next to Dr Gold’s and crawled beneath the covers.

She was still wearing his silk shirt, the soft fabric delicious against her skin.  It was a relief to lie down, the cotton sheets crisp and cool, and she closed her eyes.  She had heard nothing more from her father since speaking to him earlier that evening, and she suspected he had fallen asleep in front of the TV after too much booze. Which was his usual habit. She snuggled a little lower in the bed, sighing as she got comfortable. Her father could wait for the morning. If the snow wasn’t too thick, she could always try to head over there before she went for her shift at the hospital.  If not, he’d have to see to himself for a change. The bed was very cosy, and she could feel herself beginning to drift. A full night’s sleep would be welcome.

* * *

A noise woke her, eyes heavy with sleep, her mind groggy and stupid.  She fumbled around, her surroundings unfamiliar until she remembered where she was.  Something had woken her, an unexpected sound disturbing her rest. There it was again: a muffled cry, a low groan.  Heart thumping, she pushed back the covers and got out of bed, padding to the next room. She could just about make out Dr Gold’s figure in the low light, and hurried to turn on the bedside lamp.  He was thrashing, his limbs tangled in the sheets, and she pressed a palm to his forehead, pulling back with a sharp intake of breath as she felt how high his fever was. The cloth she had brought him was on the floor, so she took it to the bathroom to wet and wring it out.  When she returned he was still struggling in self-made ropes of twisted cotton, his breathing shallow and rapid and his eyes unfocused.

“Sorry,” he whispered.  “I’m sorry, I’m sorry.”

“It’s - it’s okay,” she said.  “You just have a high fever, we need to try to bring it down.”

“I’m sorry.”  His voice was breaking, as though he was about to start weeping.  “I’m so sorry!”

“Hey!” she said gently, and he twisted away, turning onto his side.

Clicking her tongue in vexation, she crawled onto the bed beside him, trying to turn him onto his back so that she could apply the wet cloth.  Gold suddenly rolled back towards her and threw his arms around her, crushing her tight against him. The cloth was trapped beneath them, water seeping into the sheets.  Belle could barely breathe, caught up in the searing heat of his body and the musk of his scent. He was surprisingly strong, pinning her arms to her sides with his own, and he was breathing hard and fast, his exhalations rapid and panting, his hair brushing her cheek.  His muscles were taut and straining, and she licked her lips, a sudden image flitting through her mind of how he might look if she was in his bed, if he was above her, naked and desperate and moving inside her. She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to chase the vision from her mind.   _He has the flu, monkey brain!  Stop trying to make it sexy!_

“So, so sorry,” he said brokenly.

“It’s - it’s okay,” she managed, and wiggled an arm free, reaching up to stroke his hair back.  “It’s okay, really. I’m gonna take care of you.”

“My fault,” he mumbled.  “All my fault.”

“Well, you did work eighteen hours in a ward full of sick people,” she said dryly.

His grip seemed to loosen a little, and she managed to pull out of his arms, pushing him onto his back.  She laid the wet cloth over his forehead, and he winced and mumbled at the feel of it. Belle kept it there despite his jerking head, and after a moment or two his movements slowed and stopped, his breathing steadying a little.  She used the cloth to wipe his ears and neck before laying it back over his brow, and his body seemed to slump back in the bed as he let out a long, shuddering breath. Belle left the cloth across his forehead and began unwinding the sheets from around his legs, flicking the sheets upward when she was done and letting air billow under them to cool his skin before laying them back over him. Gold slowly turned his head towards her, a trickle of water running down his cheek from the cloth and a look of bemusement on his face.

“Miss French,” he whispered, as though he was surprised to see her.

“Belle,” she said firmly.  “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admitted, and his brow crinkled as he looked at her.  “Didn’t you go to bed yet?”

“Um - hours ago,” she said, glancing at the clock.  Just after two a.m. “You woke me up shouting, remember?”

“Did I?”  He ran a hand over his face.  “Nightmare. Sorry.”

“Well, never mind that.  Drink some water.”

She filled his water glass, and he took it from her, his hand shaking a little. Belle took the cloth from his forehead and helped him sit up a little further to drink.  She wanted to stroke his hair back, to soothe him, but she wasn’t sure he would welcome it, so she merely watched as he gulped at the water.

“Better?” she asked, when he had finished it, and he nodded.

“Thank you,” he said, and hesitated a moment.  “Belle.”

She smiled broadly.

“Well, you’re welcome,” she said.  “Is there anything else I can get you?”

“No,” he said, and licked his lips.  “Stirling.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“My name,” he said, dark eyes finding hers.  “Stirling Gold.”

“Oh.”  She beamed at him.  “That’s - unusual. It’s a nice name, though.”

He waved a hand, settling back against the pillows.

“My father chose it,” he said wryly.  “The name of his home town. Probably where I was conceived, too, in all honesty.  Never did have much imagination.”

“Well, I like it,” she announced.  “It suits you.”

He sent her a crooked little grin.

“You’re a very singular young woman, Miss French.”

 _“Belle,”_ she said patiently, and his grin widened.

“Sorry.  Force of habit.”

“You’ll get over it,” she said, and got to her feet.  “You’re sure there’s nothing else I can get you?”

“Thank you, but I’ll be alright.”  He set the glass back on the nightstand. “Please, get some rest, I don’t want you getting sick because of me.  I’ll see you in the morning.”

She nodded, and he shuffled down in the bed with a sigh.  Belle eyed him for a moment, but he sent her what she presumed was supposed to be a reassuring smile, and so she nodded, and went back to her own room, hearing the click of his lamp going out.  She crawled into the bed, wriggling in the cool sheets and running a hand over her belly, where she could still feel the pull of desire from being near enough to kiss him. Any stray thoughts of pretending that she wasn’t falling completely in love with him vanished.  She had it bad.

* * *

Gold listened to her moving around in the room next to his, and ran his hands over his face with a sigh. _What the hell did you do?  Night terrors. Probably scared her half to death, yelling and thrashing around, you bloody idiot._

He was used to nightmares, although he hadn’t had one in months.  He would wake in a cold sweat, the bedclothes tangled around his legs.  There was no evidence of that in the present case, but he remembered the nightmare in all its terrible, vivid detail, and he found it hard to believe that he had not gotten himself wrapped up in the sheets as he always did.  Which meant that she had untangled him, mopped his brow and laid the sheet over him as though he had been sleeping peacefully.

He tried to remember if he had said anything to her, but found that he couldn’t, although he had a vague recollection of her being on the bed with him, of being in her arms.  Perhaps that was mere wishful thinking, the product of his fevered mind wanting comfort. He sighed again, cursing his illness. She had soothed him as much as she could and gone back to bed without mentioning anything untoward happening, so that was something.  He would have to apologise, though. The last thing he wanted was for there to be awkwardness between them because she had seen him in a vulnerable state or he had acted inappropriately under the influence of this wretched flu.

Shaking his head a little, and wincing at the fever pains in his body, he burrowed down beneath the sheets, pulling them up to his chin.  First his fever-dreams led to unexpected erections, and then he woke her up shouting like a madman. The woman was an angel to go on caring for him.

The bed was comfortable, despite his aches and pains, but his bladder was starting to twinge, and he cursed under his breath.  Grumbling to himself, he pushed back the sheets and slid his legs over the side of the bed, reaching for his cane and limping to the bathroom.  He cleaned his teeth after washing his hands, wanting to clear the bad taste in his mouth, and just as he was working up a mint-flavoured lather he noticed something out of the corner of his eye.  Something that had definitely not been there earlier.

Gold stopped brushing, the toothbrush sticking out of one side of his mouth, white foam on his lips.  A pair of tights was draped over the towel rail, lengths of black hanging dark and pendulous, and next to them…  His eyes widened at the dainty black panties, sheer mesh with a pattern of lace flowers. Almost immediately a vision came to him of what Belle would look like wearing them, stretched out on his bed. He choked, turning to the sink to spit out the toothpaste, heart thumping as he tried to chase the alluring vision from his mind.  The sooner she was out of his house, the better for his sanity. He suspected she would leave in the morning, and perhaps that would be for the best. It was already proving difficult enough to maintain a professional distance without her leaving her underwear all over the place.

* * *

The snow had drifted in the night, and lay heavy on the ground in blankets of white, glittering in the first orange rays of the winter dawn.  Belle chewed her lip as she gazed out of the kitchen window, wondering if she would be able to make it to the hospital. She supposed it might be easier walking than driving, so at least she had the advantage of her own two legs, but she doubted the journey to work was going to be anything other than cold and tiring.

She poured hot water into the teapot, glancing up at the ceiling as her mind turned to Dr Gold.   _Stirling.  He gave me his name.  A nice name, if - unusual.  Like him. He’s nice, in a - different sort of way.  And lonely, I think, even if he won’t admit it._ He had made no further noise in the night, and she hoped he was getting over the worst of the flu, although he would undoubtedly be stuck in bed for at least a few days.

She busied herself looking for something to make for breakfast.  He was running low on eggs, milk and bread, and she resolved to get some while she was out.  If the store had any left, of course; she knew how people liked to bulk-buy the basics when storms blew in.  Perhaps they were used to fierce winters in this Maine town, and took the heavy snows in their stride. There were only two eggs left, and about half a loaf of good bread, but a quick search of his cupboards turned up plenty of spices, and she took out cinnamon and nutmeg and started to prepare French toast.  By the time it was cooked, the tea was ready, and so she poured him a cup and set it on the tray. The toast was golden-brown, sweet with the scent of sugar and spices, and she poured maple syrup over it in rivulets of deep amber. The smell made her mouth water.

When she entered his bedroom, Gold was lying back with the damp cloth over his eyes, but he had pushed the blankets down to his waist.  The light gleamed on his stubble, glinting gold and silver, and for a brief, insane moment she wondered if she should offer to shave him.  She dismissed the notion as ludicrous, but it wouldn’t quite leave her mind, and so she turned her attention to the rest of him to distract herself.  She watched him for a moment as he lay on his back with the cloth covering the upper half of his face, wondering what he was thinking.

Belle tried to reason out why it was that she found him so attractive, and found that she couldn’t.  There was the accent, of course, and his soft hair, and his eyes, and those lovely long fingers of his, and his intelligence and compassion.  He was a small man, and quietly-spoken, though perhaps that was part of his appeal. His chest was thin and wiry, his nipples taut and a light sheen of perspiration covering him.  She told herself very firmly to stop bloody ogling the sick man, but her mind nonetheless filed away the image to bring out and ponder over later. It was unusual for her to feel this kind of visceral attraction to someone, and she wasn’t sure how to handle it without making it obvious that she wanted nothing more than to push him down on the bed and kiss him senseless.   _He’s sick.  He’s sick. Stop being a bloody horndog and care for the man!_

“Oh good, your fever broke!” she said, making him start.

He pulled the cloth from his face, blinking at her, and clutched at the blankets, tugging them higher.  A muscle twitched in his cheek, and he seemed to look everywhere and nowhere, all at once, before dropping his eyes to focus on his fingers, twisting in the sheets.

“Miss French,” he said softly.  “Belle, I—”

“I made you breakfast,” she said cheerfully, walking forward to set the tray on the nightstand.  “How are you feeling?”

“Terrible,” he admitted.  “But possibly a little better than I did yesterday.”

She laid a hand across his forehead, nodding.

“Yeah, you’re still too hot,” she said.  “You’re sweating though, so that’s a good sign.  I’ll get you some more water.”

She turned away, and felt his hand go around her wrist, holding her there.  Belle glanced around at him, her heart thudding a little. He was gazing at her with an almost pleading look in his eyes.

“Leave it for a moment,” he said.  “Last night. I - I think I was dreaming.  Did I - were you in here?”

“Oh.”  The warmth of his touch was making it hard to gather her thoughts.  “Yeah - you were having a nightmare, that’s all. Go yourself tangled in the sheets, so I had to get you out.”

“Ah.”  He nodded.  “Sorry if I woke you.”

“It’s okay.”

She decided not to tell him about the bone-crushing hug or the fact that he had almost been crying.  Whatever the nightmare had been about, she doubted he wanted to relive it.

“I slept well, other than that,” she added, and he nodded, looking relieved.

“Did you say something about breakfast?”

“I made you French toast,” she said.  “I hope you like it. There were only two eggs left, and not much milk, so it was the only thing I could think of.”

“French toast?”  He gave her a tiny, lopsided grin which was far too adorable to be legal, in her opinion.  “I’m sure it’s delicious.”

“Well, eat up,” she said.  “There’s tea there, as well.”

“What about you?” he asked, and she shrugged.

“Mine’s downstairs.”

“Well, go and get it,” he said.  “Allow me to have a little conversation before you leave me in my sickbed.”

He was smiling at her, and she had the feeling she was grinning like a loon in response.  She was suddenly very aware that she was wearing nothing but his silk shirt, and a blush rose in her cheeks as she wondered how it would be if she had spent the night in his bed rather than the spare room.  If she was there not because he was sick, but because they had spent all night wrapped in each other’s arms. He reached for his plate of toast, and she watched the light play on his skin, the light sheen on his chest and the lines of shadow picking out his ribs and the thin ropes of muscle in his arms.  She licked her lips.

“I’ll - I’ll just get my tea,” she ventured, and bolted from the room.

She padded downstairs in bare feet, shivering a little in the cool of the morning.  The house was heated, of course, but there was still a chill in the air, especially when stepping onto the tiled floor of the kitchen.  She poured herself a cup of tea, stirring in milk, and the sound of the doorbell made her start. Brow crinkling, she wondered who on earth could be calling at seven-thirty in the morning after a heavy snowstorm.  She set down the milk, trotting to the hall and opening up the front door.

Zelena Mills was bundled up in a heavy, green wool coat with a dark, wide-brimmed hat dusted with snowflakes, a large plastic food box held in her gloved hands.  Her expression changed from a wide, somewhat manic smile to a frown of confusion, and then a nostril-flaring glare of rage.

“Zelena,” said Belle brightly.  “What are you doing here? Is there some sort of emergency at the hospital, or something?”

“What am _I_ doing here?” snapped Zelena.  “What the hell are _you_ doing here?”

“Oh, I stayed over,” said Belle.

“Half naked?” said Zelena, in a freezing voice, and Belle glanced down at herself.

_Of course.  The shirt._

“Oh, that,” she said hastily.  “Well, I had nothing to wear to bed, you see, so—”

“Please, spare me the details!” said Zelena, in a withering tone.  “I’ve only trekked over here through driving snow to see how Dr Gold was doing.  If I’d known you already had your claws in him I wouldn’t have bothered!”

“My - my _claws_?”  Belle shook her head.  “No no, it’s nothing like that.  You see, I had to take my clothes off because it was hot, and - and take a shower, so—”

“You must think I’m an idiot!” snapped Zelena.  “Well, flounce around half naked all you want! I suppose we won’t expect you at work today.”

“No, I’ll be there,” Belle assured her.  “I won’t miss my shift, I promise.” She gestured to the plastic tub in Zelena’s hands.  “What’s that?”

Zelena looked as though she had bitten something sour, her jaw working.

“It’s soup,” she said stiffly.  “I thought he might like it.”

“Oh, that’s kind of you,” said Belle.  “I’ll make sure he gets it.”

She reached for the tub, but Zelena clutched it tighter.

“How do I know you won’t try to pass it off as your own?” she sneered, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“Because I already made him some,” she said.  “I’m sure he’d like yours too.”

“Not if you do something to it before he gets to eat it.”

“Why would I do that?” snapped Belle, losing patience.  “Come on Zelena, are we seriously arguing about soup? Just - just give it over.”

She tugged at the container, and Zelena snatched it back roughly, causing the lid to burst off and most of the soup to course down the front of her coat.  She let out a shriek that made Belle want to stick a finger in her ear, and danced back, losing her balance on the porch and falling backwards off the steps into the thick snow.  Belle closed her eyes at the soft thump as Zelena landed on her back, spilled soup leaving a trail of vegetables and lumps of chicken in her wake.

“Uh - are you okay?” asked Belle, and Zelena pushed up into a sitting position, her eyes flashing.

“If you say a _word_ …” she said ominously, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll see you at work, then,” she said dryly, and shut the front door, shaking her head.

She went to the kitchen to retrieve her tea, and carried it upstairs, shivering a little from her exposure to the cold air.  Gold was eating his breakfast as she entered the bedroom, and popped a piece of French toast into his mouth, licking maple syrup from his fingers.

“What was all that about?” he asked, and Belle sighed.

“Zelena came to bring you soup and plump your pillows,” she said, and he shuddered.

“She’s not coming in, is she?” he asked warily, and Belle shook her head.  Gold let out what sounded like a sigh of relief.

“Please pour the soup away,” he said.  “I wouldn’t trust anything that woman cooked.”

“Already done,” said Belle, and smirked to herself.  Gold looked at her somewhat hesitantly.

“Apologies if she’s a friend of yours,” he added.  “I just - I find she rubs me the wrong way. I’m sure she doesn’t mean to, but I don’t have the patience for it when I’m ill.”

“I’m not sure she’s friends with anyone,” said Belle.  “But I’m pretty certain she dislikes me. It’s no great loss.”

“Still,” he said.  “I’d like it if you felt welcome at the hospital.”

“Oh, Dorothy’s lovely,” said Belle hastily.  “And I’m friends with Mary Margaret and Astrid.  And - and I like Dr Milliner, and Alice in the pharmacy.  Even Dr Whale’s not so bad if you realise that pretty much everything he says is flirting.”

Gold grinned a little at that.

“It’s interesting that you have us all figured out,” he said, reaching for his tea, and Belle laughed softly.

“I have a feeling that may take a little longer than a week or two.”


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So for reasons that can't be explained beyond the fact that we're all pervs, @rumple-belle, @thatravenclawbitch and I ended up agreeing to write Rumbelle Accidental Full-Frontal nudity scenes today...

The snow was thick on the ground, the sky ominously grey with the promise of more to come, and Belle shivered as she stomped along through the drifts, wishing she could have stayed at Gold’s house and curled up beside him with another cup of tea.   _And while you’re at it you may as well fantasise about getting in bed with him and kissing everything better_ , she thought wryly, shoving her hands deep in the pockets of her coat.  Her crush was getting out of control.

By the time she got to the hospital, her feet were numb, but she had walked quickly and her cheeks were flushed, her heart thumping and her legs tired.  She tried to catch her breath as she shoved her coat, hat and scarf in her locker, tying back her hair and going to wash her hands. The wards were as busy as ever, the flu indiscriminate in its choice of victims.  Belle noticed several missing faces amongst the staff, and the nurses that were on shift were having to run from bed to bed to keep up with the work. Zelena appeared to be no worse for having fallen in the snow, although a faint odour of soup hung about her as she swept past Belle with a disparaging sniff in place of a greeting.

“Thank God _you’re_ okay, at least,” said Dorothy, wearily brushing a loose curl of hair out of her eyes.  “If I don’t get some sleep soon I’ll collapse.”

“You should go,” said Belle, putting a hand on her arm.  “If you push yourself too hard you’ll only come down with the flu too.”

“Like Dr Gold, you mean?” said Dorothy, with a grin.  “I hear you’ve been taking care of him.”

“Yeah, I thought I’d see how he was doing,” said Belle, and wrinkled her nose.  “He wasn’t so good, as it turned out. Pretty much hallucinating, his fever was so bad.”

Dorothy winced.

“You think he’ll be out for awhile?” she asked.  “This place really can’t afford to lose anyone else if we’re to keep things going.  Whale’s dead on his feet.”

“I’d say at least a few days,” said Belle.  “He could barely stand. I made him some soup, and gave him something to take his fever down, but this flu’s nasty.”

“Yeah, it’s kicking everyone in the balls,” said Dorothy, with a sigh.

“I’ll head over there again after my shift,” added Belle.  “See how long he’s likely to be out of action.”

“Tell him to keep his skinny ass in bed,” said Dorothy bluntly.  “I don’t want him killing himself trying to come back to work too soon.”

“Well, I can try…”

Belle’s tone was dry, and Dorothy huffed in agreement.  They both knew it would be almost impossible to keep him from the hospital if he chose to return.  Dorothy glanced across at her, suddenly hesitant.

“Look, it’s not really any of my business,” she said.  “I know I haven’t been here that long, but I hate it when some women try to drag others down, you know?  We should be supporting each other.  World’s crappy enough as it is without us making it worse.”

“Oh.”  Belle took a step back. “Did I - did I do something wrong?”

“I seriously doubt that,” said Dorothy, in a dry tone.  “From what I’ve seen you do a great job, more than would usually be asked of a candy striper.”

Belle felt her brow crinkle in confusion, and Dorothy sighed.

“Zelena’s kind of talking about you,” she said.  “In a not-so-nice way. I’ve been the target of gossip enough times in my life to know how much that can suck.”

“Yeah.”  Belle frowned, glancing around to see if Zelena was present.  “She seems to have taken an instant dislike to me, and I’ve no idea why.”

“Well, up to this morning I doubt she knew either,” agreed Dorothy, folding her arms.  “Seems like she doesn’t like anyone much, if you ask me. No one female, anyhow.  She gets on well enough with the men.  Or thinks she does.”

“So - what is she saying?”

“That you spent the night with Dr Gold.”

“Well, I did,” said Belle, puzzled.  “She came to the door this morning and just started yelling at me over nothing.”

“No, I mean she’s saying you _spent the night_ with him,” said Dorothy patiently.  “As in slept with him.”

“Well I - _oh_!”  Belle blushed.  “No, it was nothing like that!  He has the _flu_ , for God’s sake!”

“Yeah, figured,” said Dorothy.  “Anyway, I told her to get on with her work and stop gossiping, but you may find you get some questions from people with nothing better to do.  If that happens just let me know and I’ll stick ‘em on bedpan-cleaning duty.”

“Thanks,” said Belle, still blushing.  “So _that’s_ why she was mad at me.”

“Thinks you’re moving in on her territory,” agreed Dorothy.  “It’s pretty obvious she has a severe case of the hots for him, and the fact that the man can’t stand her only seems to be a turn-on for her.  I told him the other day that he’s too polite. Zelena doesn’t seem to take hints. She thinks ‘no’ means ‘try harder’.”

“Ugh,” said Belle, with feeling, and Dorothy grinned.

“Well, I’d better go,” she said.  “If you could check everyone in the senior ward has water, and maybe bring some fresh linens?”

“On it,” said Belle, and squeezed her shoulder before walking briskly away.

She filled the water jugs first, lingering for a moment by old Mr Prentice’s bed.  His eyes were closed, his breath rattling in his lungs, white beard twitching a little as his lips moved, and she chewed her lip in worry.  Mary Margaret appeared by her side, her eyes tired.

“He’s just sleeping,” she said.  “The flu’s taken it out of him, but at that age it’s not surprising.”

“I hope he pulls through,” said Belle.  “He’s a sweet old man.”

“He likes to tell the kids stories,” she agreed.  “I heard he used to teach, when he was younger. Probably before I ever came to Storybrooke.”

“Yeah.”  Belle sighed, hoping that the flu wouldn’t make Mr Prentice pay the ultimate price.  “Well, I guess I’d better get on with things. I didn’t realise you were working today.”

“Wasn’t supposed to be,” admitted Mary Margaret.  “Looks like they need all hands on deck. You want a hand with anything?”

“You could help me strip and remake the beds in ward four,” suggested Belle, and Mary Margaret agreed readily.

They hurried off, stopping to collect an armful of linens each, and for ten minutes or so there was silence except for the constant beeping of machinery and cool, dispassionate announcements from the speaker system calling doctors and nurses to various wards.  Mary Margaret bundled dirty sheets in her arms, eyeing Belle as she stripped another of the empty beds, ready for the next intake of flu patients.

“You know Zelena’s gossiping about you, right?” she said, and Belle sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Dorothy told me,” she said.  “Apparently I’m having a passionate affair with a flu patient.”

She clutched her hands to her heart, fluttering her eyelashes, and Mary Margaret giggled.

“Well, I’d warn you about the dangers of infection from kissing, but I suspect you already know,” she teased.

Belle bundled up the sheets crossly.

“I really don’t care what she thinks,” she said.  “It was perfectly innocent, and if her mind goes in that direction it’s not my problem.  I just don’t want Stirling to think I had anything to do with any of her stupid rumours, that’s all.”

“Stirling?”  Mary Margaret looked puzzled, and Belle blushed a little.

“Oh - Dr Gold,” she said hastily, and Mary Margaret’s eyes gleamed.

“First name terms, hmm?”

“Shut up,” said Belle flatly, throwing the balled-up sheets at her to cut off her giggle.  “I don’t think he even meant to tell me, the man was pretty much hallucinating.”

Mary Margaret caught the sheets out of the air, grinning broadly.

“I’m teasing,” she said gently.  “And - and I shouldn’t, you’re right.”

She dropped the linens into the wheeled hamper, shaking out a clean sheet, and Belle took the other end, helping to spread it over the mattress and tuck it underneath.

“You like him though, right?” said Mary Margaret carefully.  “I mean I know Zelena has a mean streak a mile wide, but she’s not wrong about that, is she?”

Belle sighed, tucking a corner under and smoothing the sheet.

“I like him,” she admitted.  “I like him a lot, actually.”

“So tell him,” said Mary Margaret, and Belle snorted.

“Right.  When he shows zero interest in me or - or anyone, for that matter?  I don’t think so.”

“You never know until you ask.”

“Until I ask,” agreed Belle.  “And then he turns me down, and it gets horribly awkward, and eventually I have to be transferred to a different department because the two of us being in the same room as one another just creates an atmosphere no one can stand, and eventually I have to leave town because seeing him everyday is too much for my poor broken heart to take—”

“I was thinking maybe you could just see if he wanted to get a drink after work one day, or something.”

Mary Margaret looked amused by her prophecy of doom, and Belle straightened up with a groan.

“Maybe,” she conceded.  “I’ll wait until he’s better, though.”

“Good,” said Mary Margaret lightly.  “And in two years’ time when you’re stuck between who to choose for your maid of honour, remember that _I_ encouraged you to do this, and _Ruby_ was the one who suggested that terrible blind date your first week here.”

Belle giggled, even as she winced at the memory.

“Agreed.”

* * *

The day seemed to drag, lunchtime taking forever to arrive.  Belle sank into one of the chairs in the canteen with a sigh, wriggling her toes in her boots to ease the ache in her feet.  A cup of tea steamed at her side, and a plate of what was rumoured to be beef stew sat in front of her, lumps of meat and vegetables in a thin gravy dumped unceremoniously on top of a pile of mashed potato.  She knew she had to eat, but her appetite appeared to have deserted her, and she wrinkled her nose. Deciding to leave the food for a moment, she fished out her phone to call her father, figuring that he would at least be up and about by now.

“I thought you were coming over this morning,” he grumbled.  “There’s no bacon in the house.”

“So get some,” she said patiently.  “You’re much nearer to the store than I am.  It took me ages to trek through the snow to work this morning, I wouldn’t have had time to get over to you.”

He grunted.

“Yeah, the snow’s piling up here too,” he said.  “I might close up early. Marco said something about a poker night at Granny’s.  Thought I might go.”

“Oh,” she said.  “Will you eat there?”

“Bite to eat and a few beers,” he confirmed.  “It’s Friday night, after all.”

“In that case, I might go and check up on a friend,” she said.  “I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Fine.”

He rang off, and Belle rolled her eyes.  She still wasn’t sure whether she had made the right decision, choosing to move back in with him after she had failed to find work after college.  He certainly didn’t seem to want to spend any more time with her than he had previously, and the house was a mess unless she tidied it up. She reminded herself that she didn’t have much of a choice in the matter; librarian posts were few and far between, it seemed.  Although that was unlikely to change now that she had moved to Storybrooke. The town did have a library, or at least it had in the past. The building was still there, but it was locked shut, and a peek through the windows had shown empty racks of shelving covered in dust.  Another casualty of straitened town funds and cuts in local services, she suspected. Perhaps the Mayor could be persuaded to reopen, but she doubted that was a fight she could win in the middle of a flu epidemic.

She picked up her fork, poking unenthusiastically at the stew.  It was food, and she needed to eat, but she had little appetite, and the first mouthful seemed to taste of very little but salt and grease.  She wrinkled her nose, but forced it down. There was an afternoon of work ahead, and the long trek back through thick snow. She needed the energy.

* * *

By the time she left the hospital, it was getting dark.  Zelena had largely ignored her all day, which suited Belle just fine, and she hadn’t heard anything further about the rumours of her supposed affair with Dr Gold, so she was hoping it would all blow over by the time he returned to work.  There had been no more snow that day, but the wind had picked up, dark clouds massing, a heavy feeling in the air which suggested another storm was blowing in. She should really have headed home, but her father would be out with his friends, and she was anxious to see how Gold was doing.

The store was almost empty of essentials, and there were no eggs left, but she managed to buy a package of bread rolls and a quart of milk, which should be enough to last Dr Gold a day or two.  She stomped through the fallen snow on the way to his house, her legs feeling heavier than usual, the wind trying to cut through her coat. She had left his key beneath the pot on the porch when she left that morning, and she unlocked the door, breathing a sigh of relief as the warmth of the house washed over her.

“It’s only me!” she called.  “Just here to see how you are!”

She locked the door behind her, making her way up the stairs.  He had not returned her greeting, and she was met with an odd sort of silence.  The bedroom was empty, the bed covers pulled straight, and she could hear no sound from the shower.  Swivelling on her toes, she glanced around herself, chewing her lip. Although she wouldn’t have put it past him to want to check on his patients instead of resting, he wouldn’t have been well enough to get out of bed for any length of time.  Or so she had thought. Glancing around, she saw that his cane was gone, and she cursed under her breath about the stubbornness of men.

The sound of the bathroom door opening made her spin around, and she heaved a sigh of relief as she heard the tap of his cane, turning as the bedroom door swung open.

“I was about to be very stern with you—”

Her words cut off as Gold stepped into the room, cane in one hand and completely, beautifully naked.  His eyes flew wide in horror, his mouth a perfect O, and Belle heard the whistle of her breath as she sucked in air like it was her last chance at life.  Her brain was screaming at her to turn away, but her eyes seemed to want to open as wide as they could go. His body was lean, his muscles small and wiry, his chest smooth.  Dark hair spread down from his lower belly, surrounding the soft sac of his balls and the base of his cock. The two of them were frozen in place, both seemingly too horrified to move, but at last Gold gave a start, the motion having the unfortunate effect of making his cock bounce, and Belle regained enough control over herself to finally cover her eyes with both hands, a squeak of alarm bursting from her throat.

“Miss French!” he gasped.  “I’m - oh God, I’m so sorry!  I - I had no idea you were in the house!”

“No no no, I’m sorry!” she babbled.  “I did call out, but I guess you didn’t hear me?  I - I figured you were still in bed, and when I came upstairs and you weren’t here, I thought maybe you’d gone to check on things at the hospital, and I was about to be _really_ cross with you for making yourself ill again, and I never _dreamt_ you’d be walking around naked...”

She could hear a soft rustle of clothing, and hoped to God he was grabbing something to cover himself with.

“No no, it’s my fault,” he insisted.  “I - well, I took a bath, and I usually don’t bother with a robe if I’m just going to and from the bathroom.  I - I wasn’t expecting you to come back today.”

She could still hear the rustling noise, and parted two fingers so that one eye could peer through.  He had managed to get one arm into his silk robe, but was struggling as he tried to keep himself upright with the help of the cane, and most of him was still naked, visible in tantalising flashes as the robe gaped open.  Belle let her hands drop with a sigh.

“Here - let me help,” she said firmly.

“No really, I’m fine!”

His tone was short, and she rolled her eyes before keeping them firmly fixed on his face.  She stepped forward, grasping the robe and tugging it around him, giving him enough support so that he could briefly switch hands to put his other arm through the sleeve.  He looped the belt, tugging it around his waist and tying it off with more force than was necessary, and Belle stepped back. He wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, his jaw tight, and she crossed to the bed where his empty water jug sat.

"I must apologise, Miss French," he said, his tone formal once more, making her sigh.  "I had no intention of you ever having to witness me in such a - state of undress."

"You were stark naked," she said patiently.  "And this isn't the eighteenth century.  I don't need the smelling salts and I'm pretty sure my reputation will survive."

He almost smiled at that, and she sighed again.

“I’m sorry,” she said.  “Next time I’ll make sure I get an answer before I come upstairs.”

“I’d appreciate that,” he said stiffly.

There was a moment of awkward silence, and she decided to change the subject completely.

“I brought you some bread and milk,” she said.  “There were no eggs, I’m afraid.”

“Thank you.”

“You should get back in bed,” she added.

“Yes.”

He stalked past her, drawing back the blankets and getting in, and she reached over to feel his forehead, frowning.

“You still have a fever,” she said.  “Would you like me to make you something to eat?”

“Just some tea, if you would,” he said, running a hand through his hair.  “How are things at the hospital?”

“We’re coping just fine without you, so don’t even think about going back before you’re well,” she said severely, and he sent her a brief smile.

“Yes ma’am.”

She nodded briskly, as though she believed his submissiveness.

“I’ll get you some tea,” she promised, shrugging out of her coat.

“Make yourself one, too,” he said.  “I - uh - I could use the company. If you don’t mind, of course.  In the - uh - circumstances.”

“Well, I figure we’re kind of even now,” she said.  “You saw me take my shirt off, and I saw you in the nude.  Imagine how tongues would wag if they knew.”

Gold closed his eyes with a sigh.

“I’d appreciate it if you kept that little incident between the two of us,” he said.

“Consider it done.”

She grinned at him, and draped her coat over the back of a chair, heading downstairs.  Wind howled outside, and the lights flickered as she made her way to the kitchen. Belle filled the kettle and switched it on, getting out the teapot, cups and milk jug to set on a tray, and trying to keep the image of his naked body from her mind, without much success.  She told herself firmly that he had been embarrassed by the incident, and she shouldn’t be thinking of him in that way, but she was well aware that her imagination would be having a field day with the images later that evening.

Belle hummed as she worked, looking in his fridge to see if there was anything she could make him for a snack, if he should get his appetite back.  There was still some soup leftover from the previous evening, so she could always heat that through. The kettle shut off, clouds of steam billowing from the spout, and she closed the fridge door, crossing to pour hot water into the teapot.

* * *

Gold rolled stiff shoulders, easing back against the pillows with a sigh.  All mortifying embarrassment aside, he had to admit to being pleased that Belle had returned.  It was kind of her to look out for him, and while he was certain that he could have nursed himself through the flu, it was easier and more pleasant to have her do it.  When he wasn’t inadvertently exposing himself in front of her, anyway. It must have been difficult for her to trek all the way over to his place from the hospital, considering the weather, and he admired her dedication.  Who was he to her, after all, but a fellow employee of the hospital? She had a good heart.

Driving snow lashed against the windows, the wind moaning around the eaves of the house, and the lights went out, plunging the room into darkness.  Almost immediately, there was a crash from down in the kitchen, and a cry of pain, and he sat bolt upright in bed, his heart thumping. _Belle._


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Breakfast - tea and toast made on the fire"
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "Belle falls asleep in Gold's arms...they awaken together, and no, that's not a phone in his pocket. He's just..."happy"....to see her"

Gold reached out to the lamp on his nightstand, flicking at the switch in the vain hope that it would come back on.  There was no response: it seemed that the power had gone completely. No doubt a fallen tree or something, with the wind as bad as it was.  He swung his feet over the side of the bed, pushing himself upright and staggering as his legs almost gave way beneath him.

“Belle?” he called, grasping at the edge of the dresser to steady himself.  “Are you alright?”

He made it to the door, groping in the darkness.  The storm meant that there was no moonlight to see by, but his eyes gradually adjusted, enough to make out the landing and the yawning darkness of the stairwell.  He grasped at the banister.

“Belle?” he called, fear for her safety making his heart thump painfully.

“I’m okay.”  Her voice floated up, wobbly and somewhat subdued.  “I’m in the kitchen. Cut myself, I think.”

Relief washed over him at the sound of her voice, but it was tinged with anxiety at her words.  She had cut herself while trying to take care of him. He hoped that she wasn’t badly injured; it was going to be hard enough to patch her up in near-darkness.  Trying to get to the hospital would be nigh impossible. He made his way downstairs, legs shaking as he held tight to the banister, his heart thumping with the effort.  The flu was still running rampant in his system, and he supposed that wandering around in the dark was a good way to break something, but he couldn’t leave her there, injured, when she had been good enough to care for him.

By the time he reached the kitchen, bracing himself against the wall and limping badly, his eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that he could see Belle, sitting on the floor with what looked like shards of china around her.  She glanced up at the sound of his shuffling steps.

“I - I broke one of your cups,” she said, her voice wobbling.  “I’m so sorry.”

“No, no, it’s just a cup,” he said gently.  “Did you say you cut yourself?”

“Yeah.”  She sounded on the verge of tears.  “I should probably look at that, but I can’t see what the hell I’m doing.”

“I have candles in the drawers,” he said, and Belle bit back a sob.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” she said miserably.  “I’ve just been sitting here like an idiot!”

“Please,” he said calmly.  “Don’t distress yourself. I’ll get us some light, hmm?”

He limped past her, cursing himself for not bringing his cane.  What the hell had he been thinking, leaping out of bed like he was some sort of bloody hero come to save her, when he couldn’t even bloody walk!

“You shouldn’t be out of bed,” she went on.  “Look at you, you can barely stand! Tell me where the candles are, I can do it.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said firmly.  “You already told me that you’re hurt. I can stand to be up and about for five minutes.”

He found the candles, and a box of matches to light them, and after a few moments, warm light began to spread outwards from the tiny dancing flames.  Gold melted wax onto plates and stood the candles in it, holding them until the wax hardened. Turning back, he saw that Belle was watching him, her skin shades of peach and apricot in the candlelight, her eyes sparkling with unshed tears.  She was grasping her wrist, and he reached into one of the cupboards for the medical supplies, lowering himself onto the floor beside her. Shards of broken china tinkled as he brushed them aside with a hand. He’d need the dustpan to clean that up.

“Let me see,” he said gently, and Belle offered her wrist.

It looked as though a fragment of china had cut her, slicing through the skin in the heel of her hand and into the top of her wrist.  The wound was still bleeding, if slowly, and he took time to clean it, mouth flattening as she winced in pain. She didn’t complain, though, letting him wash the wound and press sterile gauze over it before taping it up.  Gold flicked his eyes up to meet hers as he wound a clean bandage around, securing it with a safety pin.

“There,” he said quietly.  “I think you’ll last the night.”

She gave him a wobbly smile.

“Thank you,” she said.  “I come over to look after you, and you end up having to take care of me.  Doesn’t seem fair.”

“Well, we’ll just have to take care of each other,” he said, and shivered, his teeth chattering.

Belle’s eyes dropped to his chest, where his robe gaped open, and he tugged it closed.  She’d seen quite enough of his less than impressive body for one evening, and there were reasons other than modesty to be covering up.  With the loss of power, the heating had gone off, and the house would start to cool rapidly. They would both freeze if they stayed in here, and the bedrooms wouldn’t be much better.  He ran a hand through his hair, wishing his brain didn’t feel like cotton wool.

“Why don’t I light a fire?” he suggested.  “We could at least keep warm in the lounge.  If you could bring some blankets from the bedrooms, we should be able to make ourselves snug enough to wait out the storm.”

She smiled up at him.

“Now you’ve set some candles up, I might be able to get us something to eat,” she said.  “The tea should be brewed by now.”

Her eyes were sparkling, her tears gone, and it made him want to smile back.  God help him, it made him want to kiss her.

“Right,” he said.  “Right. Well. The fire.  Yes.”

He pushed to his feet, staggering to the nearest wall and making his slow, limping way to the lounge.  He could feel her eyes on him, and hated that he looked so weak. _Sick, weak and old.  As if she’d ever want to kiss you, you’re just another patient to her.  Like she doesn’t work hard enough at that bloody hospital. Just light the damn fire before you both freeze to death, you idiot._

Belle watched him go, and pushed to her feet, unconsciously rubbing her bandaged wrist.  The candlelight was enough to see by, and so she searched for a dustpan under the sink and swept up the broken china.  The tea had brewed, and she got out fresh cups and saucers and set them on the tray with the teapot and milk jug. She carried it through to the lounge, setting it on the coffee table.  Gold had lit more candles, dotted on the fireplace and mantelpiece, the room bathed in a warm glow. He was lighting kindling in the hearth, and she left him to it, going upstairs to fetch blankets and pillows.

It was harder to see in the pitch darkness of the bedroom, but she gathered up the bedclothes, rolling them up in her arms and setting them on top of the four pillows on the bed before awkwardly gathering them up together.  She brought his cane too, tucked under one arm with the blankets and pillows held close, still warm from the heat of his body. Belle tried to resist the urge to bury her face in them and inhale his scent, but it drifted into her nose anyway, warm musk and the woody, spicy fragrance of some sort of cologne on the pillows.  It made her think of him shaving, which led to thinking of him showering, which led to her perfect recollection of what he looked like naked.

Belle grinned to herself as she went down the stairs.  Despite his embarrassment at being seen by her, she couldn’t bring herself to regret it.  She knew what he was hiding beneath his scrubs and the slim-fitting suits he wore, and it had only added to her interest in him.  For a moment she let herself imagine how it might feel to have that slender body pressing down on hers, to have her hands buried in his hair as he kissed her, to feel him move inside her.  The thoughts made her cheeks heat.

When she returned to the lounge, the fire was just starting to crackle to life, and Gold was sitting on the couch, head lolling back against the cushions.  She felt a stab of sympathy for him; he had left his warm bed to come and find her and patch her up, and he must be feeling terrible. Guilt was mixed in with her sympathy for ogling the poor man, even if it was only in her head, and she told herself firmly to leave the fantasies alone while she was in his presence.  He glanced up as she entered, and she shook her head.

“Stay there,” she said firmly.

Belle draped the blankets over him, covering the couch.  He tugged them around himself, shifting position a little, and she tucked some pillows behind him.  She poured them each a cup of tea, adding milk and setting the cups on the little table to his side of the couch before lifting one edge of the blankets and getting underneath, wriggling into the seat next to him and pulling the covers up to her chin as she shivered.   _His blankets, his pillows.  He’s here next to me. I’m practically in bed with Dr Gold.  Mary Margaret would burst out laughing if I told her._

“Thank you for that,” he said, tugging his robe closed again, almost an unconscious twitch of his fingers.  “The fire should keep for awhile, but if I fall asleep, please put some wood on it.”

“I’ll try not to bore you too much,” she said dryly, and he sent her a grin.

“I’m sure you couldn’t if you tried,” he said.  “This flu’s taken my strength, though. I can’t promise I’ll be able to keep you entertained all night.”

“Well, I’m not expecting you to,” she said.  “I can always read, you know. Sleep, if you need to.”

“I’m alright for the moment.”

There was silence, and Belle wriggled in the blankets, getting more comfortable.  Gold was running his fingers through his hair, staring into the crackling flames, and she tilted her head to catch his eye.

“Are you hungry?” she asked.  “Not sure what I could make that doesn’t need heating.  There might be some bread and cheese.”

“There’s cheese,” he said.  “I think there’s fruit. Some cookies in the cupboard.  Just help yourself to whatever you want.”

“I’ll go now before the house gets too cold,” she said, and slipped out of the covers, trotting to the kitchen.

Searching the fridge yielded three kinds of cheese, some grapes and apples, and some sliced ham.  She sliced the cheese and apples, and laid out the food on a wooden chopping board. There were the rolls she had bought, too, so she sliced two of those and stacked them on the side.  Tucking a box of choc chip cookies under her arm, she carried the tray through to the lounge. The fire was starting to build, warmth flowing out from it, and she pulled the coffee table closer to the couch and set down the tray and the box of cookies.  Gold was watching her, teacup in hand.

“At least we won’t starve,” he said.  “We may die of boredom, though. I don’t think there’s enough light to read by.”

Belle chewed her lip, glancing around.

“Do you have any cards?”

* * *

An hour later, Belle was warm and snug, seated at one end of the couch with her feet up on the cushions, facing Gold at the other.  He had generously offered her a pair of his pyjamas, and she was enjoying the feel of dark blue silk against her skin, the blankets tucked around her waist.  The chill had left the air as the room was heated by the warmth of the fire, and she thought they would spend the night quite cosily tucked beneath the blankets.  After snacking on the bread and cheese (Gold ate little, but drank three cups of tea), they had decided to play gin rummy.

Wind howled outside, a fresh blast of snowflakes hitting the window, and Gold raised his head from the cards in his hand, frowning.

“It sounds as though it’s getting worse,” he observed.  “I doubt they’ll be able to fix the power before morning at this rate.  Probably some trees down.”

“You don’t mind me staying, do you?” Belle asked a little anxiously, and he shook his head.

“Who would remind me to drink fluids and rest up if you weren’t here?” he said dryly, and she grinned.

“Don’t you have family?” she asked.

He took another card, sliding it in between two others and tapping it down with a fingertip.  His face was expressionless, but she had grown used to that over the course of several games. The man would have made an excellent poker player.  Unfortunately she didn’t know how to play, and was too tired to learn that evening. Besides, she liked winning.

“Both parents are dead,” he said.

“Siblings?” she asked, and he gave her a twisted smile.

“It seems I was more than enough for them to cope with,” he said.  “You?”

Belle shook her head.

“Just me,” she said.  “Mum died when I was ten.”

“And your father never remarried?”

“Never even dated,” she said sadly.  “He loved her very much. Don’t think he’s been happy since.  Drowns himself in drink most nights, no matter what I say about it.”

“That must be difficult,” he said quietly, and she shrugged.

“Kinda used to it by now,” she said.  “Maybe - maybe he’ll be different if I have my own family.  Grandchildren, you know?”

“Maybe,” he agreed, and looked at her over the top of his cards.  “Have you any designs on that front?”

Belle giggled, pleased that the dim light would hide her blush.  “Not right now, but you know what I mean.”

He grinned at her, eyes glinting in the candlelight, and glanced down at the cards in hand.  She let her eyes run over him, soft hair falling around his face, his skin warm and his long fingers plucking out cards to rearrange them.  His lips looked very soft, and she wondered how it would feel to kiss him, if she were to sit forward and press her mouth to his. If it would be soft and gentle, or hard and passionate.

“It’s your turn,” he said, making her start.

She quickly glanced at her hand before reaching for another card, unable to hide her smile of triumph as she pulled the King of Diamonds.

“Gin,” she said happily, laying out her hand, and Gold groaned.

“How are you _doing_ that?” he demanded.  “That’s five games to one!”

“Guess it’s my lucky night,” she said, winking at him.

“Blizzards, power outages and broken teacups notwithstanding.”

“Admit it, you’re having fun.”

“Fine, I admit it,” he grumbled.  “Would you like a glass of wine, since we can’t make any more tea?”

“Are you sure that’s the best thing for you to be having when you’re trying to shake a flu virus?”

“Who’s the doctor?” he asked, looking amused.  “Let me make my own bad decisions.”

Belle rolled her eyes.

“I’ll get it,” she said.  “Any particular bottle?”

“Anything from the wine rack,” he said.  “I haven’t shown you my cellar, have I?”

“Indeed you haven’t,” she said primly.  “But there’s a storm, the power is out, and I’ve watched too many horror movies to think a suggestion like that ends well.”

Gold laughed at that, his eyes twinkling.

“I can assure you that I’m not a homicidal maniac,” he said gravely.  “Just an antisocial loner with a tendency to drink good wine alone.”

“Well, that’s what a homicidal maniac would _want_ me to think,” she said, with a grin “It’s your deal.”

Belle threw back the covers, taking the tea things through to the kitchen, his low chuckle following her out.  The dim light outside showed that the snow was still falling rapidly, and she sighed. No chance of making it home, and it was looking less likely that she’d be able to get to work in the morning.  She pulled a bottle of red wine from the rack, rummaging in the drawers for a corkscrew. It seemed strange to be going through his cupboards as though she lived there, but he didn’t seem to mind. She found two glasses and opened up the wine, carrying the bottle through to the lounge with the glasses held between finger and thumb.  Gold had dealt the cards, and she shot him a suspicious look.

“You better hadn’t have peeked,” she said accusingly, and he pressed a hand to his heart.

“I’m a gentleman, Miss French.”

“Hmm.”  She set down the wine and glasses on the coffee table, getting back beneath the covers and drawing up her feet.  “We’ll see about that.”

Gold was grinning, and she picked up her cards, fanning them out as she looked them over.  Not an auspicious hand, but she’d had worse and still beaten him, so she wasn’t too concerned.  He poured the wine, passing a glass to her, and she took a sip before setting it on the table beside her.

“You said you liked to read,” he said.  “Do I remember you saying that you studied library science?”

Belle smiled somewhat ruefully.

“I did,” she said.  “It’s my goal to be a librarian, but sometimes life doesn’t care about your hopes and dreams.”

“Oh, I’m well aware of that,” he said softly.  

“I’m trying to spread the love of books at the hospital, though,” she added.  “I got a bunch of books from the thrift store and set up a kind of mobile library on the janitor’s old cart.”

Gold looked up, interested.

“I wondered where that idea had come from,” he said.  “A few of the older patients mentioned it to me.  That’s a nice thought, I know they appreciate the extra reading material.”

Belle beamed, pleased by his praise.

“I’d like a bit more in the way of stock,” she admitted.  “There isn’t much for the kids to read on there, for a start.  I’ll have to see what else I can find when the snows clear.”

“Well, it shows a level of ingenuity and enterprise that any library would be pleased to have, I’m sure,” he said.  “What made you move to Storybrooke?  I imagine your chances of landing a librarian position are much better in the city.”

“They are,” she agreed.  “But I needed a place to stay, and I thought it might make my dad happier if I was around.  I thought - I thought maybe having no one to talk to made it easier for him to drink, you know?”

Gold threw down a card and drew another, tucking it in between two in his hand.

“And how is that going?” he asked, and Belle pulled a face.

“Turns out he _has_ people to talk to,” she said.  “Only they’re more than happy to drink along with him.”

“I’m sorry,” he said.  “I imagine that can’t be easy for you.”

She shrugged.

“Sometimes I think he likes having me around and just can’t bring himself to say it,” she said.  “And sometimes I think he just likes me cooking his breakfast and picking up takeout so he doesn’t have to.”

“Families can be difficult,” he said diplomatically.

“Is that why you live alone?”

His eyes flicked up to meet hers then, dark in the candlelight, warm and rich as chocolate.

“I’ve lived alone for a long time,” he said.  “Used to my own company.”

“You don’t get lonely?” she asked, and he smiled slightly.

“I spend every working day in the company of others,” he said.  “When I go home I quite enjoy shutting the world out and enjoying some peace and quiet.  Perhaps that seems strange to you.”

“No, I get it,” she said hurriedly, and bit her lip.  “You - sure you don’t mind me being here?”

Gold reached out for his wineglass, and took a sip.

“No, I don’t mind,” he said eventually.  “It was good of you to come over and care for me.  It’s been - unexpectedly pleasant - to have someone in the house.”

“Blizzards, power outages and broken teacups notwithstanding,” she said, echoing his words, and he grinned.

“I think I’ll survive your presence, Miss French.”

“Glad to hear it,” she said lightly.  “Because you’re stuck with me until the morning.”

Gold’s smile grew a little.

“I imagine there are worse fates,” he said.  “Would you put some more wood on the fire? If we’re to sleep down here we should make sure we have enough heat to see us through the night.”

“Sounds like a plan.”

Belle set down her cards, getting up to set two more logs on the fire and dusting off her hands before getting back beneath the covers.  She reached for her wine, sending him a wide smile. He was right. There were definitely worse ways to spend an evening.

* * *

It was very warm.

Belle swam up out of sleep reluctantly, her body heavy, her muscles loose and relaxed.  For a moment she wondered why she was sitting up, but then she felt the couch cushions beneath her fingers, and remembered that she was in Gold’s lounge.  There was heat against her back, the weight of an arm across her waist and the sound of his even breathing in her ear. And there was something sticking in her left buttock, something hard and uncomfortable.  Probably the thing that had woken her up, and— Oh. _Oh._

Her eyes flew open, her cheeks flushing as she stirred, feeling him push against her.  Gold stiffened as he woke, stretching. _Stiffened is a Bad Word.  Don’t think about him being stiff, Belle, for God’s sake, woman!_

“Belle?” he murmured sleepily, and then sucked in a breath, pulling back from her, his arm leaving her waist.  “God, I’m - I’m sorry!”

She wriggled in the blankets to face him.  He was looking at her with a stricken expression on his face, his cheeks a little warm.  She couldn’t help it, even as she told herself not to look. Her eyes dropped to his groin, and he hastily bunched the blankets around himself.

“Sorry!” he said quickly.  “I’m sorry, it - it wasn’t on purpose!  I’m sure you’re aware that these things are caused by natural reactions due to the parasympathetic nervous system and the natural early morning rise in testosterone.  It’s - it’s not something I have any conscious control over.”

He appeared to have lapsed into medical terminology, which she imagined made him feel more in control of the uncomfortable situation he was in.  He was speaking very rapidly, the words almost falling from his mouth, his free hand gesturing in agitation.

“I suspect we huddled together in our sleep last night after the fire burned down,” he added.  “Hardly surprising given the low ambient temperature of the room and the natural tendency to gravitate to a heat source.  I _assure_ you that I didn’t consciously put my arm around you—”

“Stirling,” she said gently.  “It’s fine, really.”

“—and I absolutely would never _dream_ of making you uncomfortable by making you think that I was thinking of you in _that_ way,” he went on.  “I would _never_ think of you like that!”

“Right,” she said, wishing he wouldn’t be quite so vehement about his lack of attraction to her.  “Well, there’s no harm done. I’m not offended. You’re right, I’m sure we just rolled together in our sleep.”

He seemed to sag in relief, settling back against the cushions, and she tried to keep her eyes on his face, even as she vividly recalled the sight of him naked.  Now that she knew what he had to offer, the feel of it hard and pressing against her had only made her attraction to him increase, and she hoped he couldn’t tell what she was thinking.  He eyed her somewhat warily as she reached up to feel his forehead.

“Your fever is gone,” she said, pleased.  “How are you feeling?”

“A little better,” he admitted.  “Hungry for the first time in days, actually.”

“Well, that’s a good sign,” she said.  “Why don’t I make us some breakfast?”

“Perhaps the power’s back on,” he said, and she nodded, although she privately doubted it.

“Maybe.  I’ll try the lights.”

One flick of the light switch answered their question about the power, and Belle sighed.

“I’m sure the power company won’t take too long to fix it,” said Gold, from behind her.

She crossed to the windows, pulling back the curtains.  Drifts of pristine white were piled up beneath the windows, snow still falling.  The sun had just risen, and the sky was white rather than grey, so it looked as though the worst of the storm had passed.  From the depth of the snow drifts, however, they wouldn’t be going anywhere anytime soon. She went to check the front door, and sure enough the snow was piled deep around the house.  It made her want to sigh. If the power company managed to get out to fix the downed lines, it would be a miracle.

“Looks like we’re snowed in,” she called.  “You got a shovel?”

“In the basement,” he called back.  “Is it really that deep?”

“It’d be up above my knees if I tried to walk in it,” she said, shutting the door.  “Let’s see about breakfast first.”

She returned to the lounge, where Gold was watching her from the pile of blankets.  The fire had burned out, and Belle poked at the ashes, knocking them into the grate.  The room was cold, and she shivered, hugging herself as she stood up.

“I’ll handle the fire,” said Gold, from behind her.  “See if you can find us something to eat.”

The kitchen was even colder, and Belle grabbed her coat, pulling it on as she hunted in the fridge and cupboards.  If he could get the fire going, she could make toast, just as she had on camping trips as a child. She found a set of tongs to turn the toast, and sliced the remaining bread rolls, setting them on a tray with the butter dish and an assortment of jars of jam and peanut butter.  She poked around in the cupboards for a suitable container in which to boil water, and found a milk pan with a lip in its rim for pouring. She could set that on the fire, too. At least they could have some hot tea.

Gold was lighting the fire as she carried the tray through, and Belle heaved a sigh of relief as she saw the first flames lick over the wood.  They wouldn’t freeze, at least. She shivered again, and set down the tray, returning to the kitchen to rinse the teapot and spoon loose tea into it.  

By the time the flames had burned down enough to toast the rolls and set the pan over the glowing embers, the room was pleasantly warm.  Belle was still cold, though, tucked back beneath the covers with the blankets pulled up to her chin. Gold seemed better, still a little unsteady on his feet, but he managed to boil enough water for tea and to toast the bread rolls, spreading them with butter.  Belle had tried to call the hospital to explain that she would be late due to the snow, but her phone had run out of battery and there was no way to charge it. She hoped they would realise she was stuck. She hoped that everything would be alright at the hospital with no power on.

“They’ll be fine,” said Gold, when she asked him.  “Backup power sources. No danger of it going off, don’t worry.”

“Oh.”

She supposed that made sense, and took a bite of her toast.  Butter ran over her chin and she swept it up with a finger, sucking it off.  The toast didn’t really taste of anything, but at least it was hot. She felt as though the cold had seeped into her, despite being bundled up in the blankets.  Gold was watching her, sipping his tea.

“Are you alright?” he asked.  “Your cheeks are flushed.”

“Really?”  She shrugged, pushing the toast listlessly around the plate.  “I’m freezing.”

Gold reached forward, laying a cool palm against her forehead, and frowning.

“You have a high fever,” he said severely.  “Looks as though I’ve given you the flu.”

“I - do feel kind of weird,” she admitted, and he sighed.

“Right,” he said.  “Well, you were good enough to care for me while I was sick.  It seems I need to return the favour.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> rowofstars prompted: "In taking care of Gold, Belle ends up also getting the flu, which means she has to stay at Gold's for a day or so while they both recuperate. Bonus points if there's couch snuggles and napping together."
> 
> @hanna-writes prompted: "So I was thinking, maybe Gold's fever makes a comeback in the evening, and Belle decides to stay another night to be on the safe side. And then in the morning, although Gold is feeling better, Belle has come down with the flu too and can't make it either home or to work. Cue a still-kinda-sick Gold trying to take care of her"
> 
> @goldenspinner prompted: "Belle is restless with a fever and Gold soothes her by stroking her forehead and saying/singing a Scottish lullaby"

Gold still felt terrible, but he was certainly better than he had been the past few days, and now that Belle was sick, his instincts had taken over.  Having someone to care for seemed to give him new energy. He made sure she was tucked up with plenty of blankets, and added some wood to the fire. The stack of split logs by the hearth was running low, and he realised with a sinking heart that he would need to go outside to get more.  It was going to be difficult to carry a load of wood from the back of the house with a bad leg and still nursing the flu, especially if the snow had drifted up to the back door, but he gritted his teeth and told himself firmly that he’d have to manage. There was no way he could expect her to fetch the wood herself, not in her current state.

He gave her something to take down her fever, and fetched a jug of water and glass from the kitchen to set beside her.  Belle gave him a tired smile, and he laid a hand across her brow for a moment.  She moaned at his touch, a low sound that made his mind dart off gleefully towards a highly inappropriate fantasy before he could yank it back.

“That feels amazing,” she murmured throatily, not helping in the slightest.

“It’ll take some time before your fever starts to drop,” he said.  “Are you aching?”

“My joints hurt,” she admitted.  “Head’s spinning a little, too.”

“Right, well, no running around and making a nuisance of yourself,” he said severely, and she giggled.

“Yes, Dr Gold.”

She batted her eyelashes at him, her eyes sparkling despite her illness, and he wanted to sigh.  He was almost certain she wasn’t doing it on purpose.  A knock at the door was a welcome relief from the unexpectedly impure thoughts currently running around his fevered brain.  Surprised, Gold went to the door, and opened it up to find Jefferson Milliner beaming at him, a purple scarf wound around his neck like a cravat and matching gloves clutching a large cardboard box..

“Concerned colleague to the rescue,” he drawled, holding up the box.  “Figured if you were feeling bad enough to stay away from work all this time, it must be serious.  I got over here and Anton there was clearing your path and driveway.”

Gold looked over his shoulder at the huge, bearded, bushy-haired figure of Anton, the gentle vegetarian who was his nearest neighbour.  He was shovelling snow from the driveway, tossing it aside in clouds of white, and as Gold caught his eye, he stuck his snow shovel into the drift to straighten up and wave cheerfully.

“Thank you!” called Gold.  “That’s very kind!”

“Anytime, Doc!” Anton called back.  “Figured you might have some difficulty with your cane in these conditions, so I thought it was the least I could do.”

Gold smiled at him, and he nodded his shaggy head and went back to clearing the driveway.  Gold turned his attention back to Jefferson, who arched an eyebrow at him.

“So are you gonna let me in, or what?” he asked, and pushed past without waiting for an answer.

“I figured you wouldn’t have been able to get out to get anything,” he went on.  “So I brought eggs, milk, bread - yeah, I know the power’s out right now, but they’re working on it - oh, and I got you—”

He cut off as he glanced into the lounge, where Belle was lying with the blankets pulled up to her chin and her cheeks flushed with fever.

“Hello, Jefferson,” she said, and he broke into a wide smile.

“Hey, if I’d realised I was interrupting something, I’d have stayed at home,” he said, winking at Gold before turning back to give an elaborate bow, raising the box in front of him.  “Good _morning,_ Belle!  Imagine seeing you here, tucked up on my good friend’s couch like you didn’t make it home last night.  I’m sure the story behind this is just _fascinating_.”

“She has the flu,” said Gold repressively.  “And no, she didn’t make it home last night.”

“I’m liking this story already,” Jefferson announced.  “Both of you sick, the power out, having to huddle together for warmth…  It’s like all of my favourite fanfictions rolled into one.”

Gold sighed, exasperated.

“You are aware there was a bloody great storm?” he said.  “She was kind enough to come over to care for me, and got trapped here with no heat and no power.  Whatever inappropriate thoughts may have wandered into your brain can stay there, thank you. Miss French and I are colleagues, nothing more.”

Belle turned her head away, hunching her shoulders a little, as though she was embarrassed, and Gold felt like strangling Jefferson.

“Since you’re here, you can make yourself useful,” he said.  “Could you bring in some wood from the back? We’re getting a little low.”

“Anton might have thought to clear the back for you, too,” suggested Jefferson.  “I’ll take a look. Where do you want this stuff?”

He held up the box, and Gold sighed again, rubbing his eye.  He felt desperately tired, despite only having been walking around for a matter of minutes.

“The kitchen, if you would,” he said.  “And thank you. It’s kind of you to think of me.”

“What are friends for?”

Jefferson carried the box into the kitchen, and Gold followed him through, peering into the box as it was pushed onto the counter.  A carton of eggs, a quart of milk, and two loaves of crusty bread poked out of the top. There were net bags of oranges and lemons, a jar of honey, a packet of crackers and a large carton of chicken soup.  There was even a bag of Granny's excellent chocolate-fudge cookies.  And a bottle of whisky, although not the good stuff.

“Thought you could heat some up with honey and lemon,” said Jefferson cheerfully, and Gold smiled.

“You really thought of everything, hmm?” he said.

“I try,” said Jefferson.  “I know you’d say I’m _very_ trying, but you’re just mean.”

Gold grinned at that, and Jefferson sent him an apologetic look.

“Hey, sorry about in there,” he said, his voice lowered.  “I thought you guys were an item.”

Gold almost choked.

 _“What?”_ he whispered incredulously.  “Why would you think that?”

“Because Zelena said she practically caught you in bed together,” said Jefferson, as though it was obvious. “You didn’t know?”

Gold let his head roll back with a growl of frustration.

“Great,” he said, almost to himself.  “Just great.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” said Jefferson.  “You have a whole new reputation as Storybrooke General Stud to enjoy.  Whale’s _fuming_.”

His eyes were twinkling, and Gold sent him a very level look.

“If you could please try to quash this ridiculous rumour as much as you can,” he said.  “I’ll deal with Miss Mills when I return. How are things at the hospital otherwise?”

“Starting to calm down, so don’t come back before you’re ready,” said Jefferson.  “We only had three new cases yesterday. The worst of it seems to be over.”

“Any serious cases?”

Jefferson sucked his teeth.

“Mr Prentice isn’t doing so good, but at his age that’s not surprising,” he said.  “He’s a little better than yesterday, though, so he should pull through.”

“Good,” said Gold.  “You want some tea? It’s a bit of pain to make on the fire, but we’ve managed.”

“I’d be delighted to sit down with you and your unexpected house guest, most certainly.”

“Go and get the wood, then.”

Gold prepared the tea things while Jefferson carried in armfuls of logs and stacked them by the hearth.  When he was done he locked the back door again, huffing in the cold air, the powdered snow scattering from his boots as he squatted next to Gold to warm his hands by the crackling fire.  Gold set the pan of water over the burning logs to boil, and Belle watched them over the top of her blankets, her eyes bright and her cheeks flushed. He hoped she was going to be alright.

Jefferson stayed long enough to drink two cups of tea and eat some of the cookies he had brought, chatting to them about the hospital and their colleagues, and the progress of the various patients they all knew.  Belle chewed her lip worriedly when he told her about Mr Prentice, but he reassured her as best he could. By the time he left, with a broad wink and a cheerful admonition not to do anything he wouldn’t, she was looking pale and tired.  Gold took her empty cup, setting it on the little table next to his.

“You should get some sleep,” he said.  “Rest as much as you can.”

“You should rest too,” she said.  “You’re still sick, and I don’t want you relapsing because you were caring for me.”

“Who’s the doctor here?” he said sternly, and she sent him a tired, beautiful smile.

“Get back under the covers, Dr Gold,” she said sleepily.  “You’re too pretty to freeze to death.”

He blinked at her, sure he had misheard, but she had snuggled down under the blankets, her eyes closed, and he shook his head.   _She’s teasing me.  At least she hasn’t lost her sense of humour, I suppose._

He cleared away the tea things, taking them through to the kitchen and washing the cups.  The house was freezing, and he shivered, thinking he should heed her advice. By the time he got back into the warm lounge, Belle had fallen asleep, and was jerking, tiny moans coming from her.  A bad dream?

He paused, uncertain, fingers opening and closing on the cane handle as he watched her.  A whimper came from her, a single tear tracking down her cheek, and his heart clenched.  He laid the cane aside as he slipped back beneath the blankets, one hand reaching out to feel her forehead.  The temperature of her skin made him hiss, but she moaned at his touch, at the coolness of his hand, and so he kept it there, gently stroking her hair back from her forehead, her cheeks.

She whimpered again, and he shushed her gently before humming a tune he remembered from years ago, a gentle lullaby his aunts had taught him.  He began to sing in a low voice, his tongue wrapping around vowels and rolling r’s in a lilting, haunting, ageless tune.  She wouldn’t understand the words, but he supposed it didn’t matter, and sure enough her whimpering stopped, a sigh coming from her as she relaxed, and he stroked her brow and murmured the lullaby.  Belle nestled into the pillows, and he felt himself smile.  It was strange having someone to care for again, after all this time.  Strange but wonderful.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last time, Jefferson came to visit and brought the two sick idiots a few things to make them feel better. Here's what happened next.

Gold woke with a start, momentarily confused over where he was and the warm presence beside him.  Belle was still sleeping, and he hastily moved back from where he had been curled around her. At least he hadn’t been prodding her with a raging erection this time, so that was something.  He rolled onto his back, lifting his head to look around the room. He felt better, but still weak, and he suspected he would need to take it easy for the rest of the day. The fire had burned low, and he slipped out from beneath the covers, going to stack some more wood on it.  Belle shifted at the sound of it, watching him with heavy eyes over the top of the blankets.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked, and he glanced at the clock.

“A few hours,” he said.  “It’s just after two. How are you feeling?”

“Thirsty.”

He poured her some water, and she pushed up on an elbow, taking the glass and drinking it down.  Gold placed his palm over her forehead, and she moaned at the feel of it, leaning into his touch.  She was still burning up, and he frowned, shaking his head.

“I’ll be okay,” she whispered.

“In a few days, perhaps,” he said.

At that moment the lights flicked back on, and they both looked around before sharing a smile.

“Power’s back,” he said.  “I’ll just check the kitchen.”

“Do you have a phone charger?” she asked.  “I should really call my dad, he’ll wonder where the hell I am.”

“I’ll find your phone,” he said, heading for the kitchen.

The heating system was ticking into life, and he spotted Belle’s phone on the table, plugging it in to charge.  The battery was completely dead, so it would be a little while before she could make a call. He filled the kettle with water, figuring that he could make them both a hot toddy with the ingredients Jefferson had brought.  He sliced lemons and placed them in cups with spoonfuls of honey, a cinnamon stick broken in half and a few cloves. He then poured a generous shot of whisky over and finished with the hot water before stirring everything up.

Belle was propped up against the pillows when he went back through, and he sat down beside her and handed her one of the cups, setting his own on the table.

“The place should be warming up soon,” he said.  “I plugged in your phone. You should give it ten minutes or so.”

“Thanks.”  She breathed in the scent from the toddy.  “Wow, that’s strong!”

He grinned.

“Should do you good,” he said.  “Or at least it’ll taste good. My aunts used to make it when I was young.  Swore by it in the winter. I mean there’s some science behind it due to the medicinal properties of the ingredients, but honestly I think they just liked the whisky.”

Belle giggled.

“Are your aunts over here?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Passed away a few years ago,” he said.  “They were in their forties when they took me in, and raised me from around age seven.  Good women.”

“I don’t really have any wider family,” she said.  “Never knew my grandparents, and Dad’s an only child.  Mum didn’t speak to the rest of her family - apparently she married beneath herself, or something ridiculous - so I never knew them.”

“I'm sorry to hear that."

“Yeah.”  She patted the blankets beside her.  “Come on, get back underneath. The house isn’t warm yet.”

He slid beneath the blankets, picking up his drink and taking a sip.  It was soothing, the heat of the whisky and spices, the sharpness of lemon juice and the rich, sweet honey.  He let his head roll back against the pillows with a sigh, and Belle eyed him over the top of her mug.

“How come you ended up in the U.S.?” she asked, and he pulled a face.

“Got a scholarship to med school,” he said.  “Seemed too good to pass up.”

“Do you miss home?”

“A little,” he admitted.  “But I’ve been here a long time, and I like that the north-eastern U.S. has rain and snow and is cold enough to freeze your arse off at times.  If I’d ended up in Arizona or something, I may have fled back home far sooner.”

“Well, at least you have good neighbours here to clear the snow for you,” she observed.  “I guess now the power’s back on I should be heading home.”

“You’ll do no such thing,” he said sternly.  “You still have the flu, and I’m not about to toss you out into the snow.  The furthest you’ll be travelling is upstairs to the spare bedroom. Doctor’s orders.”

Belle grinned at that.

“What about you?” she asked.  “Are you going back to work?”

“Tomorrow, I expect,” he said.  “No doubt they could use my help, but I’m sure they’ve kept on top of things.  Jefferson and Whale are very competent, and Nurse South runs a tight ship.”

Belle chewed her lip, looking uncomfortable.

“Look, I - I didn’t want to say anything,” she began.  “I was kind of hoping it would have blown over by the time you got back, but just in case it hasn’t, I - I think you should know that Zelena’s been spreading stories about us.”

He made a noise at the back of his throat, a low grunt of irritation.

“Jefferson told me,” he said shortly.  “Don’t concern yourself, I’ll deal with it.  I don’t have the patience for gossip, and if Miss Mills is so short of work she’s spreading ridiculous rumours, I’ll just have to find something for her to do.”

“Okay,” she said.

“I’m sorry if it’s distressing you,” he added.  “But if it’s any consolation, I very much doubt that anyone at the hospital believes her.”

“Oh, that doesn’t upset me,” she said.  “I just thought - I thought maybe it might upset _you_ , that’s all.”

He suspected she might have been offended by the suggestion that the two of them were an item, but was too polite to admit it.

“Well, we both know it would never happen, so I’m trying not to let it bother me,” he said.

Belle blinked at him, and he wanted to sigh.  Yes. The idea _had_ upset her, but she didn’t want to hurt his feelings by saying so.  It was bad enough that she had been snowed in with an invalid and ended up catching the flu herself.  Now she had the hospital rumour-mill to contend with. Bloody Miss Mills!

“I’ll deal with it,” he repeated.  “You just concentrate on your recovery.  The sooner you’re feeling better, the sooner we can get you out of here.”

“Right,” she said quietly, and sipped at her drink.

* * *

Belle felt awful, the illness taking all of her strength, and once she had finished the toddy she snuggled down in the bed, drifting in an out of sleep as Gold got up and went upstairs.  He left her alone, only coming back around five to check on her and make her drink some water. She needed the bathroom, and made her way on shaking limbs, breathless with the effort by the time she got back under the covers.  He offered to heat up the chicken soup that Jefferson had brought, and although she wasn’t hungry, she agreed.  Her phone was charged, and so she called Ruby, who squealed down the phone as soon as she heard her voice.

“I almost called the cops!” she said.  “Why didn’t you come over? Your dad said he didn’t know where the hell you were and he seemed like he couldn’t care less, so I was kind of thinking maybe he’d killed you and buried you in the woods or something!  I’ve been worried sick!”

“I have the flu!” protested Belle.  “My phone ran out of juice, the power was out… Stirling and I had to huddle in the lounge to keep warm.”

“Who the frilly heck is _Stirling_?”

“Oh.”  Belle blushed.  “Dr Gold. I - I came over to look after him, because he was sick, and - and I kind of got sick too.”

Ruby whistled, and Belle’s blush deepened.

“Shut up,” she muttered.

“No, this is _awesome_!” said Ruby enthusiastically.  “You like him, right? As in _like him_ like him?  As in you’d have sex with him?”

“Ruby…”

“I’m just saying, this is looking a _lot_ more promising than that blind date I set up.”

“Look, I gotta go,” said Belle wearily.

“Wait!  Are you okay?  Do you want me to bring you anything?”

“Not right now, I just need to sleep.”

“You know you’re always welcome to stay here if you want,” added Ruby.  “No sexy older guys, but I can make you hot cocoa!”

“I don’t want to give this to you,” said Belle.  “I’ll be okay, I just need to rest and let it take its course.”

“Okay.  Call me tomorrow, okay?”

“Thanks, Rubes.”

She rang off and called her father, trying their home when there was no answer at the shop. He was grumpy when she answered, and didn’t seem at all concerned that she hadn’t been home in days.

“I told you you’d get the flu,” he said, when she explained her situation.  “Didn’t listen, did you?”

“Thanks for the sympathy,” she said, rolling her eyes.  “Just thought I’d let you know I won’t be home for a day or two at least.”

“So what am I supposed to do for food?”

“What did you do before I came to Storybrooke?” she snapped.  “Microwave something!”

She hung up before he could snap back, and tossed the phone aside, irritated.  The sooner she could get a place of her own, the better. She heard the tap of Gold’s cane, and glanced over to where he was coming into the lounge with a tray perched on his free arm.  A steaming bowl was set on it, and she took it from him, along with a plate of bread and butter that she didn’t really want.

“Was your father worried?” he asked, and she snorted.

“That’ll be the day,” she said dryly, taking up a spoon and stirring the soup.  “God, I really need to start saving up for my own place! Are there any major landlords in town?”

“Not that I know of,” he said.  “You could try putting up a notice in the break room at the hospital, though.  Someone may have a place to rent.”

“That’s an idea.”  She blew on a spoonful of soup to cool it.  “I don’t need anything big, just a one-bed. There has to be something around.”

“So your plan is to stay in Storybrooke, then?” he said, taking a seat.  “What about that librarian position you talked about?”

“Not much chance of that at the moment,” she said gloomily.  “One step at a time, I guess.”

“Jefferson said the patients will be pleased to get _their_ librarian back, anyway,” he said.

She sent him a grateful look.  It was good of him to remember what was important to her.  She suspected that was what made him a good doctor, the ability to remember what people told him, however unimportant it might seem to others.

“Eat your soup,” he added.  “We’re going to attempt to get you upstairs to a comfortable bed, and it could take all our combined strength, pathetic as we are.”

She returned his grin, and picked up her spoon again.  It would be nice to lie down properly and get some decent sleep, but sharing the couch with him hadn’t been so bad.

* * *

After the soup was eaten, and the dishes cleared away and washed, Gold managed to get Belle upstairs to the spare bedroom, and tucked her in, drawing the blankets up to her chin.  He laid a damp cloth over her forehead, and she moaned in pleasure, a low, groaning noise of pure bliss.  He had some vivid and arousing dreams that night, and was almost certain that Belle's noises of pleasure were the cause of them.  Luckily he had slept in his own bed, with no one beside him when he woke, and no worry at the back of his mind that he would embarrass himself with involuntary erections.  Waking up alone had seemed strange at first, and he told himself not to be so ridiculous. He had been waking up alone for decades, after all.

Gold felt considerably better the next morning, if a little light-headed, and decided he was well enough to return to the hospital, albeit for a shorter shift than he would usually work.  Belle was worse, barely raising her head when he brought her tea and a jug of iced water.  Her fever made him frown, so he gave her something to reduce it, and made her drink a full glass of water before he left.

“I’ll check in on you at lunchtime,” he promised.  “No parties while I’m out, alright?”

She let out a soft giggle at that, and he nodded and eased the door closed, hoping she would start to feel better soon.

The hospital was busy, but Jefferson was right - things didn’t seem quiet as hectic as they had been.  He got an update from Whale as he changed into his scrubs; the influx of flu patients had slowed to a trickle, but they were now getting patients with complications arising from having had the flu itself.  Miss Ginger had ended up with pneumonia, and there were several instances of patients trying to do too much, too soon, and fainting in the middle of the street. The storm had also led to numerous broken bones as people slipped on the ice, but Whale said he had dealt with the majority.

“Which of the nurses are on duty?” asked Gold.

“Dorothy and Astrid are on the children’s and long-term wards, assisted by Miss Blanchard,” said Whale, buttoning his shirt.  “I put Zelena in the emergency room. She was getting on my nerves, so I figured I’d keep her busy.”

Gold grunted at that. _Good bloody riddance._

“Is Nurse South in?” he asked.

“Should be.”

“Thanks.”

Gold closed his locker with a clang and drew on his lab coat, nodding to Whale as he left the locker room.  He made his way down the corridor to where Nurse Glinda South kept her office, and found her going through the shift rotas for the week.  She sent him a warm smile as she looked up, blonde hair teased up into a neat bun.

“Dr Gold,” she said.  “I’m so pleased to see you back.  How are you feeling?”

“Better, thank you,” he said.

“I presume you’ve come for an update on the patients.”

“I’ve already been through that with Dr Whale,” he said.  “Actually, this is something more delicate.”

“Ah.”  She put down her pen, sitting back.  “Would you like to take a seat?”

“Thank you, but I’m better standing.”  He opened and closed his hands on the cane handle.  “I’m not sure what you’ve heard, but it’s my understanding that Nurse Mills has been spreading false and salacious rumours about myself and Miss French, one of the assistants.”

“I did hear something being whispered around in the canteen,” she said, frowning.  “Didn’t pay it any mind, but it sounds as though it’s gotten out of hand. You’re sure it was Zelena?”

“Quite sure,” he said.  “She came to my house. Uninvited, I might add, and quite unwelcome.  Upon seeing Miss French there, she apparently got the wrong idea about our relationship.”

Glinda’s mouth flattened.

“I see,” she said.  “Well, thank you for bringing it to my attention.  I’ll be having a stern talk with Nurse Mills.”

“Thank you,” he said.  “I would have spoken to her myself, but honestly it seems as though any attention might be misinterpreted, and I’d rather not encourage her.  Besides, I didn’t want to tread on your toes.”

“I appreciate that,” she said, and picked up her pen, tapping it against the schedule on her desk.  “As luck would have it, I was about to redraw the staffing rotas. I’ll be sure to fix it so that Nurse Mills has as little interaction with you and Miss French as possible.”

Gold felt a smile spread across his face, and he inclined his head.

“Thank you, Nurse South,” he said.  “I’m obliged to you.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> anonymous prompted: Gold returns to work but can't get Belle off his mind and is noticeably mentally absent.
> 
> Well, he is still recovering from the flu, so I kind of tweaked the prompt a little to account for that

Gold still felt a little light-headed and weak during his shift, but two cups of coffee from the canteen helped him get through the morning.  He even treated himself to a Danish, enjoying the brief sugar rush it gave him. The energy was short-lived; his body felt as though it had been soundly beaten with iron bars by the time midday came, and a tiny voice whispering in the back of his mind told him he had returned to work too soon.  He ignored it, and pushed on, heading to the children’s ward, where seven-year-old Grace Milliner was recovering from her own bout of the flu. Gold sat down on the edge of her bed with a feeling of relief, and Grace blinked at him, strands of light brown hair curling around her face.

“How are you feeling?” he asked kindly.

“Okay,” she said, in a small voice.  “I can’t find Mr White, though.”

“Mr White?”

Gold racked his brains to think of who that might be, flicking through his mental filing cabinet of staff and patients and drawing a blank.  He reached out to feel Grace’s forehead, nodding approvingly when he detected no fever, and she sighed.

“He’s fluffy and soft and I can’t sleep without him,” she said, looking miserable, and Gold smiled.

“Mr White is your toy rabbit,” he guessed.  “Of course. Forgive me, but I don’t believe we were ever formally introduced.”

Grace giggled a little at that.

“When I’m all better you can come to a tea party,” she offered.  “Daddy always says you need to get out more.”

“Does he indeed?” remarked Gold.   _Bloody Jefferson and his interest in my social life!_  “Well, that’s very kind of you, Grace.  I should think you can go home tomorrow, so you can arrange all the parties you want.”

“Mr White always sits at the head of the table,” she added.  “But he’d love for you to come! If I ever find him, of course.”

She looked upset again, and Gold smiled.

“I suspect he’s just gotten lost in the ward somewhere,” he said gently.  “Why don’t I see if I can find him?”

She beamed at him, and he stood up, swaying a little as he hooked the chart back over the end of her bed.  He managed to get his cane underneath himself, steadying his footing, and walked quickly from the ward before he could fall on his face.  There was a large laundry hamper on its wheeled frame outside the door, and he frowned to himself before bending over it and pawing through the sheets.

“You lost something?”

Dorothy’s cheerful voice made him jump, and he almost fell into the hamper before it started rolling away under the pressure of his body.  She grasped the metal handle, stopping it with a foot behind the wheel so that he could push himself upright. Dorothy raised an eyebrow, looking amused, and his mouth flattened.

“You doing laundry now?” she asked.  “You know there are plenty of patients to look at, if you’re short of work.”

“I’m looking for Mr White,” he said vaguely, picking up one of the sheets and shaking it.

“Are patients trying to get smuggled out in the laundry hampers?” she remarked.  “Wow. I had no idea you were so terrifying.  I know you’re kind of strict on people taking their meds, but that is some classic escape plan right there.  Mr White’s my hero.”

“He’s a rabbit,” said Gold impatiently, and balled up the empty sheet, dropping it back in the hamper.

“Mr White is - okay, you lost me.”

Dorothy folded her arms, and Gold sighed, leaning on the hamper again.  His body was screaming at him to lie down.

“Grace’s rabbit,” he explained.  “She can’t sleep without him. I thought he might have been picked up by accident when the beds were changed.”

“You’re dead on your feet and you’re upside down in a laundry hamper looking for a toy rabbit?” she said flatly.  “Go and sit the hell down, would you?  Like I don’t have enough to do without hauling your ass out of there.”

“You’re as bossy as Belle,” he grumbled, and she raised an eyebrow, pursing her lips.

“I’ll check in the laundry room for the rabbit,” she said.  “Why don’t you finish your rounds and get home. Before you fall over.”

“I’m fine, I can do it!”

He bent over the hamper again, almost falling in while he rooted around, but his fingers grasped something that felt far softer than the sheets.  Dorothy’s hand grabbed his collar - along with a good chunk of his hair, which made him growl - but she hauled him upright until he was on his feet, and he turned to face her with a scowl.

“You’re freakishly strong!” he snapped, and she shrugged.

“Never get in a fight with a lesbian,” she said.  “Now would you go and get some rest before you kill yourself?”

Gold gave her a smug grin, pulling his arm free from the pile of sheets and brandishing a somewhat bedraggled plush white rabbit.

“Told you I could do it,” he said snidely, well aware he sounded about five years old, and not caring.

He stomped off to the ward again, and Dorothy followed him, which meant that she was there to witness Grace’s face lighting up with excitement as he handed over Mr White.  It also meant that she was there to witness him bending to pick up a patient’s chart and almost falling over. He grasped at the end of the bed to steady himself, gritting his teeth as he felt the room spin around him.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” said Dorothy, looking concerned.  “You don’t seem completely - with it.”

Gold sighed, his knuckles white as they gripped his cane and the bed frame.

“Guess I’m still trying to shift this bloody flu,” he admitted.  “Sorry. I’m - I’m probably more hindrance than help today.”

“Hey, we’re still short-handed, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she said.  “But you should get home as soon as you’re done with this ward. As long as Whale doesn’t come down with it too I think we’ll be fine.  Come back tomorrow if you’re better. But _only_ if you’re better, okay?”

He grunted something that wasn’t quite agreement, picking up the chart he had been reaching for.  He dropped it, the clipboard bouncing end over end before clattering to the floor, and he sighed heavily.

 _“Go home,”_ said Dorothy firmly, scooping up the fallen chart.  “You’re gonna make yourself worse, and then who’s gonna look after Belle, hmm?”

“I’m not sure I’m doing all that much better than she is right now,” he said, plucking the chart from her fingers and earning a frustrated hiss from her.  “But you’re right. I should really check on her. She looked after me so well, it’s the least I can do.”

“Yes, I’m sure your gratitude is the only reason,” she said quietly, and he glanced up.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing,” she said, and smiled widely.  “How’s Belle doing, anyway?”

“Not great,” he said, running a finger over the figures on the chart.  “I left her with iced water, lots of blankets and instructions to stay in bed.”

“She’s - in your bed?” asked Dorothy blandly, and he looked up sharply, to see her grinning at him.

“Of course not!” he snapped.  “I do have spare bedrooms, you know.”

“I just thought, given the power outage, there was the perfect opportunity for some impromptu bed-sharing,” she said innocently, and he wanted to grind his teeth.

“Don’t you bloody start!” he said severely.  “As if I don’t have enough of that from Miss Mills!  I’m sure Miss French wouldn’t appreciate being the subject of gossip anymore than she already has been!”

“Oh, keep your pants on, I’m teasing,” she said, waving a hand.  “I know you’re unfailingly polite and wouldn’t lay a hand on her.  Much to her disappointment, I'm sure.”

“Don’t you have work to do?” he demanded, setting down the chart.

“Yeah, but this is _way_ more important.”  She followed him as he moved to the next bed.  “Besides, I need to keep an eye on you. You look like you’re gonna fall on your ass.”

“I told you, I’ll be alright.”

He picked up the next chart, sighing as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“By the way, you don’t happen to know if anyone here has property to rent, do you?” he asked absently, and Dorothy snorted.

“Dude, I just bagged the last house-share going in this town,” she said.  “Trying to find apartments to rent in Storybrooke is like searching for unicorns.”

Gold grunted.  As he had thought.

“I thought you owned your own place, anyway?” she said.

“Oh, it’s not for me,” he said, checking the patient notes.  “Belle’s looking for somewhere to rent. She’s living with her father at the moment, which knowing Moe French’s personal habits, can’t be ideal.”

“Hmm.”  Dorothy folded her arms.  “Didn’t you say you had spare bedrooms?”

“Several, but I fail to see what that has to do with anything.”

He put down the chart, moving onto the next bed, and she followed him.

“Really?” she said flatly.  “So Belle is currently living at your house, is looking for a place to stay, you have tons of room, you like each other, and you can’t think of _any_ connection between that set of facts?”

Gold looked up, blinking at her in surprise.

“I - I live alone,” he said, as though that explained everything.

“Not at the moment you don’t.”

“Yes, but this is a - a special situation,” he said impatiently, turning away. “She’s sick.  I could hardly toss her out into the snow.”

“So you agree that offering her a home when she needed it most was a good thing to do?” she pressed, and he sighed.

“This is only for a few days,” he said.  “Once she’s well enough to leave, she can go back to her own home.”

“And you can go back to sitting alone in the evenings being miserable as hell.”

“I’m not miserable!” he snapped.  “And I don’t see that my private life is any of your business!”

“I’m sharing with Astrid and Leroy,” she said bluntly.  “I get more than enough of watching two people dance around one another like they’re not completely in love when I’m at home, thanks.”

“Astrid and - and _Leroy_?” he said, perplexed.  “ _They’re_ together?”

“No,” she said patiently.  “Not _yet_ , anyway, because they’re almost as blind and stupid as you are.  I can see I really have my work cut out as matchmaker in this place.”

"You certainly will," he remarked.  "I think your aim as Cupid is woefully off target.  I can't speak for Astrid and Leroy, but I'm not in love with Miss French, and she's _certainly_ not in love with me."

"Wow, you really _are_ blind and stupid."

“Nurse Gale, so help me—”

“I’m serious!”

“What is it with the staff in this hospital trying to interfere in my lack of a personal life?” he demanded.  “If you must know, I’ve been quite happy on my own for decades!”

“And now you could be happy with someone else.”

“Or it could be an unmitigated disaster that doesn’t get beyond the first awkward attempt at a date and she leaves town, never to return.”

“Oh my God!”  She threw up her hands in exasperation.  “If you won’t ask her out would you at _least_ offer her a place to live?”

Gold opened his mouth for an angry retort, but then snapped it shut, smirking as he recalled noticing something.

“Fine,” he said lightly, and turned away, moving to the next bed.

 _“Fine?”_ said Dorothy, suspiciously.

“Yes, fine.”  He picked up the chart, grinning to himself, and heard her step closer.

“Fine as in you’ll offer Belle a place to stay?”

“Yes,” he said, glancing around to where she was watching him with narrowed eyes.  “Just as soon as you arrange yourself a date with the lovely Miss Lucas.”

Dorothy’s mouth fell open as a blush rose in her cheeks, and his grin widened.

“I expect something suitably romantic, none of this ‘just as friends’ nonsense,” he added.  “And you’re to text me an update during the evening to let me know how you’re getting along.”

“You’re a bastard,” she said flatly.

“Well, I’m only thinking of your future happiness.”

“But I don’t even know if she likes me!” she protested, and he grinned at her.

“How unfortunate.  I guess you can go back to sitting alone in the evenings being miserable as hell.”

Dorothy glowered at him repeating her own words back to her, but nodded reluctantly.

“Fine,” she grumbled.  “I’ll stop bugging you about your non-existent sex life, and you stop bugging me about mine.  Deal?”

Gold grinned, showing his teeth.

“The deal is struck.”

He put back the final chart and headed for the door of the ward, hoping that his legs wouldn’t give up and pitch him onto the floor.

“If I ever _do_ manage to get a date with Ruby, you and I are revisiting this conversation!” she called after him.

Gold turned slowly on the balls of his feet, and winked at her

“Well, I won’t hold my breath, then.”

* * *

Gold took his time driving home, the roads treacherous with compacted snow and patches of ice.  His head was aching, his body exhausted, and he wanted nothing more than to crawl back into bed and sleep for twelve hours.  The house was silent when he entered, and he shrugged out of his coat and made his way up the stairs, knocking quietly on the door of the spare bedroom.  A sleepy voice answered, and he opened the door to peer in at Belle. She was curled in the bed, blankets pulled up under her chin, dark curls spread out on the pillows and her cheeks flushed, but she sent him a wan smile.  Gold walked in and sat down on the edge of the bed, shaking his head at the temperature of her skin.

“You still have a high fever,” he said.  “Have you been drinking plenty of water?”

“I’ve mostly been sleeping,” she said, and he nodded.

“Try to sit up.  You should drink something.”

She pushed up obediently, arms shaking a little, and he stood up and poured her some water, sitting down again and putting a hand on the back of her shoulder to support her as she drank it.  Belle gulped at the water, then lay back down with a heavy sigh. Her head rolled against the pillows, her eyes flicking up to meet his.

“How are _you_ feeling?” she asked, and he shrugged.

“Better than yesterday,” he said.  “But I’m a terrible doctor.  I managed nothing more technical than finding a little girl’s toy rabbit.”

Belle giggled.

“Well, I’m sure that was very important to her,” she said, and he smiled briefly.

“Perhaps.”

“All those years of medical training may give you lots of knowledge,” she added.  “I’m willing to bet they don’t teach much about how to care for people in the little ways that matter, though.”

“Patient welfare isn’t just about getting the right diagnosis and treatment,” he said, and her smile widened.

“See?  That’s my point.  You care about your patients.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone, I have a reputation to maintain,” he quipped, and Belle’s eyes sparkled with amusement.

“Would you stay with me awhile?” she asked.  “I’ll probably fall asleep again, but it would be nice not to feel alone.”

Gold hesitated, looking down at his suit and tie before glancing to the chair at the dresser.  He was desperately tired, but if she wanted company, perhaps he could sit with her for a moment.  Belle seemed to sense his uncertainty.

“Oh, I didn’t mean for you to sit around like you’re about to go out for dinner,” she said.  “Please, go and change. Put some PJs on. There’s enough room on the bed for both of us.”

She patted the blankets beside her, and Gold swallowed hard.  Sleeping beside her had been excruciatingly wonderful, and he had just resigned himself to the fact that it would never happen again.  And now she was sitting there, with wide eyes and flushed cheeks, gazing at him imploringly from beneath the sheets of his spare bed.

“Just for a little while,” she pleaded.  “It’s depressing being alone when you’re sick.”

He hesitated, Dorothy’s words about him sitting alone and miserable echoing around his brain.  Had he really been suffering in his solitude before Belle had turned up on his doorstep? He didn’t think so, but then perhaps he had just gotten used to an empty, silent house.  He knew that a part of him had wanted it to be a punishment, to shut himself off from the world and wallow in grief and guilt and self-loathing. When had it become a shield? When had he started to take comfort in loneliness?

“It’s - it’s okay if you want to be alone.”

Belle’s voice made him jump, jerking him out of self-reflection and back to the present.  She was watching him worriedly.

“I’m sorry,” she went on.  “You’ve been around people all day, you probably need some time to yourself. Forget I said anything.”

“Right,” he said lamely.

She smiled then, tired and beautiful, her eyes lighting up the room.

“I’ll maybe see you later,” she added.

“Right,” he said again, his brain screaming at him to stay with her, to talk to her.  “I’ll - I’ll bring you some tea.”

She smiled at him, and he stood up, shifting from foot to foot until he managed to move one of them.  He stepped back from the bed, reaching for the door handle, and closed the door behind him as he left the room.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: what if during a feverish wandering, Belle ends up asleep in Gold's bed. So Gold comes home, and Belle is in his bed...
> 
> Anonymous prompted: Gold goes to check on Belle, who's asleep. In the nude.

Gold had been quiet and reserved all that evening, staying out of her way except to bring her tea and iced water to slake her thirst.  He brought her onion soup for dinner: glistening translucent slices of onion and garlic in a rich beef broth with thyme. It was comforting and delicious, and Belle was surprised to find that she emptied the bowl.  After checking her fever and frowning to himself, he gave her something to take it down, cool fingers feeling her throat to check for swelling. He was a little more talkative when he went into Doctor mode, she found, treating her with the same firm, but kind detachment that he showed all his patients.  She thought that he probably wanted her out of his house so he could relax, but he was far too polite to say so.

She was still very ill, and fell asleep easily, so she wasn’t surprised that the next time she woke, it was morning.  Gold had opened the door, a cup of tea in his hand and a tiny smile on his face. He set down the cup on the nightstand, reaching out to feel her forehead.  His mouth set in a grim line.

“I think you’ll feel a little worse before you feel better,” he said.  “Make sure you get plenty of rest today, and drink plenty of water. I’ll bring you some before I go out.”

“You’re going to work?” she said, disappointed, and he nodded.

“If Whale doesn’t take a day off soon, he’ll end up like you,” he said.  “I’ll see you tonight, though. Get some sleep, and perhaps your fever will break.”

He smiled at her then, and she watched him go, clad in his perfect suit with his perfect hair and his eyes that were just a little too sad.  She realised that she didn’t know enough about him. Had he always lived alone?  Did he have a dark and terrible past, a cheating ex who had broken his heart beyond repair, perhaps?  Was that why he never dated, why he had never married?  She snuggled down in the blankets, tugging them up under her chin with a sigh.   _Maybe he doesn’t like people that way.  Maybe he’s completely happy living his single, celibate life, and I’ve just barged in here invading his house and whipping off my shirt and bursting in on him naked like a big freak!_

Belle cringed at the thought of it, of how her actions might have been viewed from his perspective.  Really, she was a walking disaster. The man had the patience of a saint. The sooner she was well enough to get up and go home, the better.

* * *

She slept for much of the day, getting up only to use the bathroom.  Her legs felt as though they were made of jelly, threatening to pitch her onto the floor at any moment, and as the afternoon drew on she grew more feverish, teeth chattering even as her skin felt like fire.  She decided to take a bath in the hope that it would make her feel better, and there was some relief in sinking down into the hot water, filled with herbal-scented bubbles. Thinking of Dr Gold taking a bubble bath was equal parts amusing and intriguing, and she tried to build up a mental image of how that would go, which was certainly easier now that she knew what he was hiding beneath his suit.  Her mind then took a detour as she wondered what else he might do in the bath, and she had to yank it back before it could prove too distracting.

Telling herself firmly to stop treating the poor man like a sex object, she splashed water on her face and shoulders to wash off stray bubbles.  Getting out was difficult; she had no strength in her limbs and despite the heat of the water, was shivering so much she could barely get the towel around herself.  She stumbled from the bathroom, barging through the door opposite and crawling into the bed with a sigh of relief. The blankets were heavy and warm, and she drew up her knees, closing her eyes, the pillow cool against her burning cheek.

* * *

Dr Gold had found the day easier, his illness having improved, and so he worked longer than he had intended. It turned out to have been a mistake; he was exhausted by the time he took off his scrubs, and not for the first time he gave himself a lecture on not taking his own advice and resting.  The hospital had been so busy he had barely noticed fatigue creeping up on him, and it wasn’t until he stopped that he realised how tired he was.  Thankfully Dorothy wasn’t there to call him an idiot.  But there again if she had been she would have told him to go home hours ago.  Not that he would have listened.

He walked out to the Cadillac, his limp more pronounced, his gait slower than usual.  It was still bitterly cold, the wind trying to get through his coat, snow and ice still making the parking lot treacherous, but he managed to get to his car without falling on his arse, so that was something.  It started to snow again when he was on the road, but the snowfall was light. He doubted they would be snowed in again.

The house was silent when he let himself in, and he wondered if Belle was sleeping.  Sneaking upstairs as quietly as he could, he gently tapped on her door before opening it and putting his head around.  He was surprised to find her bed empty, and backed out with a frown. The bathroom door was ajar, and so he peeked inside, spying the pyjamas he had lent her discarded on the floor, but no Belle. The air was humid, scented with the herbal bubble bath he sometimes used, and he presumed she had taken a bath.  So where was she?  Concern was starting to needle him, and he backed out of the bathroom, ears pricking up as he heard a soft noise from the room behind. His bedroom. Curious, he pushed open the door, eyes widening as he took in the sight before him.

The lamps were off, but the landing light cast a sharp-edged swathe of warm gold into the room.  It fell across the bed, the shadows beyond seeming darker. Belle was asleep in his bed, lying curled on her front with her arms around a pillow, dark curls spread out around her head.  Her arms and shoulders and her upper back were bare above the blankets, and he realised with a sharp intake of breath that she was naked. In his bed.

He knew he should move, should back out of the room and pretend he hadn’t seen her, but his feet seemed glued in place.  Belle’s cheeks were flushed, her lips parted as she breathed, and all at once she sighed restlessly and turned, rolling onto her back.  Gold swallowed hard. Her breasts were exposed, beautiful creamy curves tipped with pale pink nipples, and he tried to wet his lips with the tip of his tongue, his mouth suddenly dry.  He knew without a doubt that they would fit perfectly in the palms of his hands, that the nipples would harden at the pull of his lips, the sweep of his tongue. He wondered if her skin was as soft as it looked, and for a moment imagined how it might feel to draw his tongue down her body, to pull aside the blankets and kiss down between her legs.  To taste her pleasure and hear her moans of bliss.

His cock twitched in his pants, making him blink rapidly, and he took a step back, cutting off the view of her a little.  His heart was thumping, and he ran a hand through his hair in agitation.   _She’s sick.  She must have stumbled into the wrong room after her bath, and fallen asleep.  She’s sick and she needs your help, and all you can do is stand there ogling her like a fucking pervert!_

He backed out further, pulling the door closed behind him, and made his way to the stairs, telling himself firmly to make some dinner and stop thinking about what he had just seen.  She was sick, and she was a guest in his house.  She was a colleague, new to her post and in need of support and guidance.  And she was half his age, beautiful and far too good for the likes of him.  But for a moment he had looked on her, and wondered how it might feel to come home to her in his bed.  For a moment he had wanted to peel off his suit and climb in beside her and take her in his arms.


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Belle goes down on Gold. You know, for science"
> 
> Um...

Given that Belle was asleep in his bed, Gold had to make do with the spare room.  It didn’t help his unexpected arousal that she had been using that as a bedroom the past few days; the sheets had her scent all over them.  In fact, he wasn’t certain that sleeping there was the most sensible course of action, but he couldn’t bring himself to use one of the other rooms.  Besides, the bed was comfortable, and he was tired. That was it.

Belle being in his bedroom also meant that he didn’t have access to his clothes.  He had been in the bathroom, where the pyjamas she had been wearing were discarded on the floor.  They were his, and he could have easily put them on, but doing so after she had been wearing them didn’t seem right, and so he picked them up, folded them neatly, and put them on top of the little wooden cabinet that housed cleaning materials and rolls of toilet paper.  He stripped down to his boxers instead, crawling beneath the sheets with a sigh of relief and letting his body relax as it prepared for sleep.

The sound of the door handle turning made his eyes flick open, and he glanced to the side.  Belle was in the doorway, silhouetted by the light behind her. He could see that she had put the pyjamas back on, and told himself that was a good thing, even as a traitorous part of his brain whispered that it wanted her to be naked.

"Hey," she said.  “I - uh - was in your bed.”

“Yes.”  He pushed up on his elbows.  “I didn’t want to disturb you, so I came in here.”

She pushed the door open a little further, slipping into the room.

“Sorry,” she said.  “I guess I wasn’t thinking when I came out of the bathroom.  You can come back in, you know. Sleep in your own bed.”

“I - uh—”  He licked his lips.  “I don’t mind.”

Belle moved closer, skin almost gleaming in the moonlight.

“I don’t want to push in where I’m not wanted,” she said.

Her voice had lowered in pitch, grown almost husky.  He wondered if her throat was hurting.

“I don’t mind where you sleep,” he said, and shrank back against the pillows a little as she reached the bed.  His heart was thumping, his skin tingling.

“Then is it okay if I get back in here?” she asked softly, and he blinked.

“Of - of course,” he said hastily.  “Just a moment, I’ll—”

He had thrown back the covers automatically, and now stared in dismay at his near-naked body, at his thin legs and chest, the black silk boxers the only thing preserving his modesty.  Belle didn’t seem to notice, reaching over to put a hand on his shoulder.

“No,” she said.  “I meant - I meant you could stay.”

“What?”

He must have misheard her.  Flu and lack of rest was finally taking its toll and rendering him stupid.  Belle smiled slightly.

“You can stay,” she whispered.  “I want you to stay.”

“I - I don’t understand...”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, pushing his legs aside with her hip, and he stared at her, frozen with shock, his breathing rapid.  Belle met his eyes, fingers trailing up her body to pluck at the buttons of her pyjama top. He watched in stunned silence as she opened it up, shrugging it off and revealing the soft curves of her breasts to him again.  Moonlight shone pale blue on her skin, her nipples hard in the cool air, and he almost forgot to breathe.  Belle reached up to cup his cheek, and he heard the rasp of stubble as her thumb moved against his skin.  Her eyes were dark and deep, a tiny smile curving her beautiful mouth.

“We’ve been dancing around one another long enough, don’t you think?” she whispered.

She leaned in to kiss him, pushing him back down into the bed as she did so, and Gold felt as though he was losing his mind, his hands reaching up to sit at her waist.  The kiss deepened, her hands searching, stroking, and then somehow he was on his back and she was kissing down his neck and over his chest.  It made him gasp, shivers running through him at the touch of her lips, soft against his skin.  He was growing hard again, as aroused as he had been when he had woken pressed against her on the couch.  As aroused as he had been when he came home to find her naked between his sheets.  She moved lower, wriggling between his legs, her mouth trailing down over his belly, fingers hooking beneath the waistband of his boxers.

"Belle!"

His voice was a strangled croak, and she looked up, shaking back her hair.  He stared at her, wide-eyed, and she met his gaze as she pulled his underwear slowly down, freeing his cock. Her head bent, dark hair falling over her face as she took him in hand and closed her hot, wet mouth around him.

He let out a groan, head rolling back against the pillows, back arching as she took him deep.  Her lips were sliding against him, pulling at him, her tongue wrapping around him, and it felt so incredible he thought he might cry.  Her hands were on his belly, palms flat against his skin, sliding up to rub over his chest as she sucked with long, slow movements.  He wanted more, wanted to roll her onto her back and worship every inch of her body if she would let him.  He wanted to slide deep inside her and make her moan in pleasure.  Sensations were building within him, almost-forgotten desire burning through his body, ready to burst out into that sweet mouth of hers and run in sticky trails over her lips.

Gold woke with a start, gasping for breath, his cock rigid in his boxers.  There was fluid there, cold and wet against the silk where it had leaked from him, and he closed his eyes with a groan, shaking his head as the last stray images of the dream disappeared.  God, it had seemed so _real_!  It was only the fact that her going down on him would never happen in a million years that convinced him he had imagined the whole thing, and he curled his lip at his own subconscious.  _Dreaming of her like that when she's sick and in need of help.  She'd slap you if she knew, and you'd bloody deserve it!_

He was still hard, almost unbearably so, his body flushed and his heart thumping, and he pressed a palm against himself through the blankets, trying to find some relief.  It wasn’t enough, and, cursing to himself, he reached beneath the covers, pushing the hand down the front of his underwear and grasping himself firmly. Fragments of the dream filled his mind again, the sound of Belle’s voice, the feel of her against him.  He pushed them away; it was wrong to think of her while he was in this state.  While he was touching himself in the dark of the night with her in his bed.

Grimacing, he tried to empty his mind of her, to think of something, anything other than her as he tugged at his hard flesh.  He tried to create other fantasies, to concentrate on something that wasn’t real, but his imagination failed miserably and Belle kept crowding back in, irresistible, insistent.  An image came to him: the memory of her rolling over in his bed, her perfect breasts on show, her beauty breathtaking, and this time she wasn’t asleep.  This time she was awake, and reaching for him, her full lips already forming a kiss.

He came with a groan, hot fluid running over his fingers, pleasure bursting through him, blinding him, and for a moment there was blessed darkness, a silence in his mind that came from a rush of pure bliss.  He tried to steady his breathing, his chest heaving, and fingers of shame began stroking over his skin, creeping up over his chest to push deep inside. He had crossed a line. A line he had told himself that he would never cross.

It was time for her to leave.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Belle calls Gold by accident. Gold worries when she doesn't respond blah blah blah maybe he can admit to himself that he is falling for her?"
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "Belle finds something that indicates the presence of a boy in Gold's life"

Belle was confused when she awoke, the room unfamiliar, the light from the window coming from the wrong angle.  At first she thought it was because she was in Gold’s house rather than her own, but still something didn’t seem right.  Pushing up on arms that felt like jelly, she looked around, eyes widening as she realised where she was.  Dr Gold’s bedroom.  For a wonderful, fleeting moment she thought perhaps they had spent the night together, but the bed beside her was cold, the pillow unused.  Besides, she remembered being very ill and taking a bath before hurling herself into the bed and falling asleep.  Hardly conducive to a night of passion.

Cold air was on her shoulders, making her shiver, and she turned onto her back.  She was suddenly aware that the blankets had been pushed down to her waist and she was naked.  In his bed.  Where the hell had he slept?  He must know she was there.  He must have come into the room, expecting to get into his own bed, and found her there.  Naked.  Belle blushed, pulling the blankets up to her chin and wriggling down in the bed.  How much had he seen?  Could she possibly make it three days before stripping off in front of him again?

She sneezed, clapping a hand to her mouth as she did so, and automatically reached to the side where the box of tissues sat on the nightstand in her room.  There was nothing there, and she made an irritated noise under her breath, leaning over to pull out the little drawer to see if there were some in there.  She found some tissues, and got one to her nose just in time before sneezing again.  Balling it up, she dropped it on the nightstand, and glanced in the drawer as she reached over to push it shut again.  A framed photograph caught her eye, and she frowned, tilting her head to look at it.

It was a photograph of a young boy, perhaps four or five years of age.  Dark hair and eyes, with an infectious dimpled smile.  He was gazing at the camera and clutching a toy bear to his chest.  The frame was moulded brass, the glass marked with fingerprints, as though it was handled a lot.  She wondered who the boy was, and why the photograph was kept in the drawer rather than being on display.

A knock at the bedroom door made her start, and she quickly shut the drawer and clutched the blankets closer, casting her eyes around frantically for something to wear.  The knock came again, which convinced her that Gold had indeed come into the room and seen her - well, if not  _entirely_ naked, at least whatever had been showing above the blankets.  He clearly wasn’t about to enter again and risk another eyeful.

“Come in!” she called, and the door opened.

Dr Gold glanced at her, and seemed to relax a little as he saw that she was covered up.  He pushed open the door, crossing to the nightstand to put down the tray he had carried in his left arm.  It contained tea, a bowl of fresh fruit with yogurt and honey, and a small omelette.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“A little better,” she said truthfully, and he nodded, reaching out to feel her forehead before nodding again, more approvingly.

“Yes, your fever has gone down.  Good.  You should get plenty of rest today, though.  Keep drinking water”

“I will.”

She hesitated, glancing up at him.  He wouldn’t quite meet her eyes, and she felt awful for embarrassing the poor man.

“I’m so sorry,” she said.  “I had no idea I’d gone to sleep in your bed.  I took a bath last night, and - and I guess I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s no matter,” he said, still not looking at her.

“I - I guess I left the PJs in the bathroom,” she added.  “Sorry again.  I really have to stop flashing you like this, it’s not professional.”

She was hoping to raise a smile, but he was looking at his hands, fingers twitching over the handle of his cane.

“I’m sure my naked body is the  _last_ thing you expected to see,” she went on, and he glanced at her briefly before looking away again.

“Well, I’m a doctor,” he said.  “I’ve seen a lot of naked bodies in my time, Miss French.  Yours is no more hideous than any of them, I assure you.”

Belle blinked.

“Right,” she said.  “Thanks.”

“I should get to work,” he added.  “Please, call if you need anything.”

He slipped out of the room, and Belle collapsed back into the pillows with a groan.  She ran her hands over her face, frustrated with herself, and reached for her tea, listening to Gold moving around downstairs as she ate her omelette.  He left for work soon enough, the front door closing, and Belle whipped off the covers and hurried to the bathroom, finding the discarded pyjamas neatly folded on the laundry hamper.  She put them on, getting back into bed and setting the bowl of fruit and yogurt on her lap as she reached for her phone.

“Hey, invalid!” said Ruby cheerfully.  “How are you?”

“Getting better,” said Belle.

“Still living in sin with the lovely Dr Gold?”

“I wish,” grumbled Belle.  “He can barely look at me.  I think it’s time I went home.”

Ruby sighed.

“So much for the summer wedding I was planning,” she teased.  “You sure you want to go to your dad’s place?”

“I don’t want to ruin the friendship we’re developing by outstaying my welcome, you know?” said Belle.  “The guy’s a massive introvert, and the longer I stay here, the more withdrawn he’s getting.  I think he needs some time alone, poor man.”

“Okay,” said Ruby.  “If you’re sure you’re well enough to walk to the car, I’ll come over and pick you up in an hour.”

“You’re an angel.”

She hung up, and lay back against the pillows, taking a spoonful of yogurt.  Gold had been too good to her, but enough was enough.  She had to leave.

* * *

It wasn’t until lunchtime that Gold picked up his phone, so he didn’t see that Belle had tried to call him twice.  She had left no message, but then there was a third call, around ten minutes earlier, a message of distorted sounds and muffled scrapes.  It sounded like the few calls he had received from Jefferson when he had sat on his phone.  “Butt-dialling”, Jefferson called it.  Perhaps Belle had sat on her phone by accident.  Shoving away the image of her naked in his bed again, this time with a phone slipped under her perfect rear end, he swiped at the screen to call her.  Just checking in, of course.  No other reason.  The phone went straight to voicemail, and he hung up.

He called the house phone instead; there was one on his nightstand, and she would be able to answer it easily.  There was no response, and low-level worries began to needle him.  He called her cell again, cursing as he received the voicemail message.  What if she had collapsed?  She could have fainted or fallen and have tried to call for help.  Pushing back his chair, he slipped the phone into his pocket and made his way to the locker room.  He had another twenty minutes of his lunch break.  More than enough time to go home and check on Belle.

By the time the Cadillac pulled into his driveway, his anxiety levels had risen substantially, worst case scenarios flitting through his mind.  Belle was injured.  Fallen in the kitchen, or slipped in the shower.  Worse, Belle was dead, lying at the foot of the stairs with her neck twisted, staring up at him.  The rational part of his brain told him he was being ridiculous, but his imagination went on creating nightmares for him to ponder as he got out of the car and strode quickly up to the porch, fumbling in his pocket for his keys.

He called her name as soon as he entered the house, heart thumping painfully when he was greeted with silence.  Taking the stairs two at a time made his bad leg scream, and he knocked on the bedroom door with more force than he needed, waiting only momentarily before opening it.  The room was empty, the blankets pulled up and tucked in neatly.  He turned on his heel and went to the room she had called hers for the brief time she had been there, but that was cold and empty too.  Brow furrowing in confusion, he went back downstairs, glancing into the lounge and study before ending up in the kitchen.

There was a note on the table, a single piece of paper weighted down with a fountain pen.  He picked it up, eyes scanning the words.

_Dear Stirling_

_I tried to call, but I guess you were busy.  Your phone wouldn’t let me leave a message, for some reason, so I’m having to do this the old fashioned way.  Something tells me you’ll be okay with that._

_Thank you so, so much for everything you’ve done.  For taking me in, for letting me share your home, for looking after me so well when I was sick.  I know we didn’t know each other all that well when I first came over, but I’d like to think we’re friends now.  I hope we’re friends, anyway.  I had a lot of fun, when we weren’t concentrating on being sick, of course.  It’s been so great getting to know you a little.  At least now I have a better idea of what to get you if I ever pull your name in Secret Santa!_

__You have your house back, with no weird girl bringing you soup and stripping off and freaking you out, so you can relax a little. _I’ll see you when I’m back at work, which hopefully won’t be too long, and I hope you feel better soon.__ _

_Yours_

_Belle_

_P.S.  Oh, Ruby’s taking me home, by the way.  It’s not like I’m walking, so I don’t want you to worry about me._

For a moment he felt relief; she was fine, she had left his house in one piece and gone home.  He told himself he should be relieved for other reasons; he would no longer be tortured by her presence, by her scent in the air and on his sheets and by the sound of her low, soft laughter.  He should have been relieved, but he could feel nothing but emptiness.  His life was back to normal, and he hated it.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because there was some discussion about hospital fundraisers on tumblr, and because I'm terrible, I thought Gold might be persuaded to do one of those naked calendar shoots...
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "You can’t do a naked calendar plot line without some kind of Full Monty reference. Whether Dr Gold has a sarcastic line about being in a strip group to pay for med school or Belle having a fantasy about a guilty pleasure movie or the photographer playing “You Can Leave Your Hat On” during the shoot I needs a FM reference."
> 
> I kind of tweaked it a little...

Belle stayed in bed for the next three days.  Her father was in no way as attentive as Gold, but at least she knew not to expect much from him.  He brought her tea each morning, with the air of someone who felt that they were performing a task that was beneath them.  Dinner was takeout fried chicken, which she pulled a face at, and received a lecture on her lack of gratitude in return. It didn’t make her recovery any more rapid, but she felt too sick and weak to care all that much.

It was a relief when she felt she could get out of bed, not least because she could make her father breakfast and stop his complaining, however briefly.  She really needed her own place, and to that end she spent the rest of the morning making a notice to hang in the break room at work. _Wanted!_ it shouted in large red letters, followed by a description of what she was looking for: apartment or shared house with access to a garden, plus the approximate rent she was looking to pay. She had left tear-off strips at the bottom with her name and number, and she prayed that someone in Storybrooke would have what she wanted. Someone who was quiet and tidy and liked cooking dinner with a glass of wine and a little music.  Someone who enjoyed lazy Sundays with coffee and croissants and a good book. Someone like—

Belle squeezed her eyes shut, scrunching the paper a little in her fingers and shaking her head.  No. He had made it very clear that he didn’t see her as anything more than a friend, and to share a house with him would be exquisitely painful.  Not to mention the fact that the poor man had probably breathed a huge sigh of relief when he returned home and found her gone.  _Maybe he danced around the place.  Naked._

Belle rolled her eyes, shoving the image away, the memory of seeing every inch of him.  The thought made her grin, and she shook her head in resignation. Barely over the flu, and her libido was already at full power. She tamped it down, concentrating on smoothing out the crinkles in her notice. Someone in Storybrooke would have a place to rent. She just hoped it would be someone she could stand.

* * *

Gold had never before found his house to be too quiet.

When he had first moved to Storybrooke, he had breathed a sigh of relief at leaving the city behind, at his pace of life changing so dramatically, his journey to and from work undisturbed by the honking of horns or the screaming of sirens, the only sounds in the evening the ticking of clocks or the music he played.  He had revelled in peace and quiet, in silence. And now it seemed oppressive, almost ominous, as though a heavy cloud had stretched across the sun and his world was left in shadow.

The first night after Belle left was torture; he could smell her scent on the pillows, and his sleep was restless, filled with vague dreams of her being there with him.  He stripped the bed the next morning, changing the linen for fresh and shoving the sheets into the laundry hamper to wash. The dreams faded, but it was a partial victory only.  The house was still too quiet.

He told himself it was for the best; he liked his own company, after all.  He enjoyed solitude, had sought it out and embraced it. Having Belle in his house didn’t change who he was on the most basic level.  So why did the house feel empty without her? Why did _he_ feel empty?

His brain wasn’t coming up with any satisfactory answers to that question, certainly none that made any sense, and so he chose to deal with his inner turmoil in the best way he knew, which was to bury himself in work until he forgot about it.  Fortunately, the hospital was as busy as ever, and Dr Whale had almost cried when Gold told him he could take the rest of the week off. For a terrifying moment he had thought Whale was going to hug him, but thankfully he had restrained himself and had simply run off to the locker room.  Nurse South had immediately approached, a clipboard in her hands and a determined look in her eyes, and Gold had gotten an update from her and thrown himself into dealing with the latest casualties of the harsh Maine winter.

Jefferson appeared for the evening shift, just as Gold was starting to realise how tired he was.  A friendly clap on his shoulder made him stagger, and Jefferson grabbed his arm to keep him upright.

“Take it easy, would you?” he said.  “Go on, get on home. I can cover your last hour.”

“I’m alright,” lied Gold, rubbing an eye, and Jefferson grinned at him.

“So, I hear Belle finally went home,” he said.  “I’m guessing you’ve been enjoying a little alone-time since she left, am I right?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” snapped Gold, and Jefferson blinked.

“It - means that I know you like your own company?” he said.  “What the hell did you _think_ I was talking about?”

“Nothing,” sighed Gold, giving himself a mental kicking.  “Sorry. I’m just - sorry.”

“No big deal.”  Jefferson looked him over.  “How is she, anyway?”

“How should I know?”

“Wow, are you in a crappy mood today,” remarked Jefferson.

“Sorry,” said Gold again.  “She’s - I don’t know how she is.  Not back at work, anyway.”

“Maybe she’s actually getting the rest she needs,” said Jefferson.  “Unlike some people.”

“Stop nagging me.”

“Somebody ought to.”

“Why is that somebody always you?”

“You know my constant dragging comes from a place of love, right?”

Gold shook his head, secretly amused, and Jefferson grinned.

“Grace is better, by the way,” he said.  “She’s back in school. She says I’m to invite you to a tea party this weekend.”

“I’d be delighted.”

“Good, because I already told her you were coming.”

Gold nodded absently, setting down the chart and moving on, and Jefferson eyed him, lips pursed as though he had a secret and was wondering whether to tell him.  Gold grumbled under his breath.

“Whatever it is you have to say, why don’t you just say it?”

“Okay,” said Jefferson.  “The Board agreed to buy that new CT scanner you wanted—”

“But?”

“—but they're insisting that we do a fundraising drive to show willing.”

Gold groaned, letting his head roll back.

“Let me guess,” he said dryly.  “Bake sales and a charity dinner.”

“Is that so terrible?”

Gold snatched up the chart from the next patient’s bed, grumbling to himself.

“I’ll bake something,” he said.  “Several things. I’ll even attend the dinner.  Just don’t leave me alone with the bloody donors.”

“You’re safe, I promise,” said Jefferson, and hesitated.  “Anyway, that wasn’t what I was gonna tell you. I - kind of had an idea for fundraising.”

“Oh yes?”

Gold checked over the figures on the chart, nodding to himself when he saw the slowly improving picture.  He turned his attention to the man in the bed. Alfred Prentice was pale and thin, his white beard stretching down over the blankets.

“Good to see you getting a little better, Mr Prentice,” said Gold.  “I hope you’ll be able to go home soon.”

The old man lifted a hand briefly, closing his eyes, and Gold turned back to Jefferson, who was looking surprisingly shifty.

“Go on,” said Gold suspiciously.

“Okay, so I thought we might all contribute to a calendar,” said Jefferson, in a rush.  “A picture, maybe a short bio, maybe a fun statement.”

“Who the hell would want to buy that?”

“Oh, we’d all be naked,” said Jefferson, in a matter-of-fact way, and Gold’s eyes narrowed.

“What?”

“Well - naked calendars of regular people sell, you know?” said Jefferson, giving what he no doubt thought was his most charming smile.  Gold turned away.

“No.”

“Oh, come _on_!”

"No."

"Don't tell me you haven't done things you didn't want to further your career in medicine," said Jefferson.

"Yes, I waited tables every night at university," said Gold impatiently.  "I certainly didn't take my clothes off for cash."

"Pity, you could have saved yourself time and money," said Jefferson, with a grin.  "Get me drunk enough and I'll tell you about my time at Blue Star.  Stripping's a lot more lucrative than carrying plates of food."

Gold stared at him for a moment, unsure whether he was joking, and Jefferson's grin widened.

"Get me even drunker and I'll probably show you my routine to  _You Can Leave Your Hat On_ ," he added, and Gold shook his head.

"God, please don't."

"You're no fun."

"I keep telling you that, but you don't take any notice."

Jefferson sighed in exasperation.

"So?" he said.  "You in?"

“No one wants to see me naked even accidentally, I assure you,” said Gold, in a very dry tone.  “Let alone pay money for it.”

“You wouldn’t be _totally_ naked,” persisted Jefferson.  “I was thinking about a strategically-placed clipboard or something.”

“No.”

“Whale’s doing it.”

“Whale would get his tackle out for a croissant.”

Gold moved on to the next bed, and Jefferson scampered after him.

“Okay, that’s true,” he allowed.  “But think of the hospital! Isn’t getting state of the art equipment worth a little humiliation?”

“You’re not selling this too well.”

“The photo shoot will be private,” added Jefferson.  “Just you, the photographer… And me, if you want some support.  Moral or otherwise.”

Gold sighed, and Jefferson grinned at him.

“Everyone _else_ has said yes.”

Gold reached for the patient’s chart, and looked up at him.

“Fine,” he said resignedly.  “But next year I’m sticking to the bake sale.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @thatravenclawbitch prompted: "Dorothy witnesses a particularly painfully awkward encounter between Belle and Gold once Belle comes back to work. She harasses Gold about it."

Belle was relieved when she could return to work, and made her way to the hospital with a lightness in her step that she hadn’t felt in days.  Even the weather seemed to be celebrating her newfound freedom, the winter sun shining brightly on the snow, ice crystals glittering on the boughs of trees and the top of the park fence.  She greeted Mary Margaret cheerfully as she entered the locker room, shrugging out of her coat and shoving it with her bag into an empty locker.

“How are you feeling?” asked Mary Margaret.  “You look pale.”

“I’m okay,” said Belle, turning to face her.  “A little tired, that’s all. Glad to be back at work.”

“Hmm.”  Mary Margaret looked amused.  “Even with the impending photo shoot?  I heard you agreed to do it too.”

Belle pulled a face, but couldn’t hide her grin.

“Dorothy called me yesterday,” she confessed.  “I don’t mind - it sounds like a bit of fun. You’re in too, right?”

“I’m in,” said Mary Margaret, blushing a little.  “I just hope none of the school kids see the finished product.  I’m counting on the townsfolk to hide their innocent eyes.”

Belle grinned.

“So, do we have a full dozen victims?” she asked, smoothing her skirt, and Mary Margaret nodded as they turned to head for the ward.

“Six girls and six guys,” she confirmed.  “Literally no one was shocked by Doctors Whale and Milliner stepping up.  Dr Gold was a surprise, though.”

Belle stumbled, arms flying out to keep her balance.

“Dr Gold?” she said.  “ _He’s_ doing it?”

“I couldn’t believe it either,” said Mary Margaret.  “He’s always buttoned up to the neck. I guess you just never know what someone’s really like underneath it all, huh?”

Belle thought that she knew exactly what he was like, down the last inch, but she elected not to say anything. They rounded the corner and went into the long term ward, where Mary Margaret picked up a tray and began collecting empty water jugs from patients’ nightstands.  Belle left her to it, crossing the ward to where her little mobile library cart was stashed beside the waste bins. She wondered if anyone had been doing the rounds in her absence, or if the patients had missed out on reading material.

Once she had made the rounds of the long term patients, she pushed the cart out of the ward, almost running into Dorothy, who swerved to avoid her.

“Sorry,” said Belle.  “I should slow down, I’m just excited to be back.”

“Well, it’s good to see you on your feet again,” said Dorothy cheerfully.  “We could use all the help we can get.”

“Just let me know where you need me,” said Belle.  “I was going to do the library rounds but I’m free after that.”

“We need supplies in the kids’ ward,” said Dorothy.  “I’ll get you the list, if you can swing by on your way around.”

“Sure thing.”

Dorothy nodded, and put her head to the side with a tiny grin.

“So, the photo shoot,” she said.  “Jefferson says the photographers are coming tomorrow.  I vote we go for drinks at the Rabbit Hole afterwards.  You in?”

“Sounds good,” said Belle.  “Who are the photographers?  Someone local?”

Dorothy shook her head.

“Couple of Jefferson’s friends from New York,” she said.  “Apparently they’re big time - do a lot of work for  _Vogue_.  Nice of them to do him a favour.”

“Well, now I’m even more interested to see what the finished product looks like,” remarked Belle.  “Is there a theme or anything?”

“Other than ‘hospital staff strip off their clothes and their dignity for cold hard cash’, not that I know of,” said Dorothy, with a grin, and Belle giggled.

The tap of a cane made her look around, and she felt her heart thump as Dr Gold came into view, his hair brushing his cheekbones, his eyes a little tired.  Belle beamed at him as he approached, and he nodded to her.

“Miss French,” he said.  “I trust you’re feeling better?”

Belle gave him a flat look.

“If you start Miss French-ing me again, I’ll have to revert to calling you Dr Gold,” she teased.

“Well, we are in a hospital,” he said, a little stiffly.  “Given my professional status, perhaps that would be best.”

Belle felt as though a cup full of cold water had been thrown over her.  He wasn’t quite meeting her eyes, fingers twitching on the cane handle, and Dorothy was frowning at him.  She tried again.

“You must be enjoying having the house to yourself,” she said.  “Although if you ever want someone to kick your arse at cards again, feel free to give me a call.”

She grinned at him, and he looked away, off down the corridor.

“I’m enjoying the peace and quiet,” he said.  “No doubt you’re pleased to be back in your own bed.  As am I.”

“Right,” she said, feeling awkward, and Gold sighed.

“If you’ll excuse me, Miss French, I have a busy schedule,” he said.  “I’m glad you made a full recovery.”

He set off down the corridor with his limping stride, and Belle chewed her lip, sharing an awkward glance with Dorothy before pushing her cart on down to the children’s ward.  It seemed the close friendship they had been nurturing had taken a strange turn.

Gold was almost to the next ward when Dorothy caught up with him, swerving to stand in front of him and blocking his path.

“What the hell was that?” she demanded.

“What the hell was what?”

“Could you have been any more rude and dismissive?” she asked.  “I thought you two were friends!”

“How was I rude?”

Dorothy put her hands on her hips.

“What, so telling her she has to call you Dr Gold and you’re glad she’s no longer in your house wasn’t rude?”

“I told her I was glad she’d recovered!” he said, aggrieved, and she puffed out her chest, raising her chin.

“’My dear Miss French’”, she said, in a ridiculously deep and somewhat plummy voice. “’I’m delighted both that you didn’t die and that you’re no longer bothering me with your foolish chattering’.  _That’s_ how you sounded!”

“I did not!”

“You know, the next time you talk to someone you like, I’m just gonna record a video of their face going through the five stages of grief and show it to you.”

“She didn’t do that!” snapped Gold, and blinked.  “Wait, what do you mean ‘like’?”

Dorothy leaned forward, fixing him with a beady eye.

“You  _like_ her,” she whispered.  “Don’t you dare try to tell me you don’t, because you’ll be a lying liar who lies!”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” he growled, and strode off.  She trotted at his heels insistently.

“Don’t walk away from me, you know I’m right.”

“I don’t know any such thing!” he snapped.  “And I’ll thank you to keep your nose out of my personal affairs.”

“Oh believe me, if you had any personal affairs going on, I’d be  _more_ than happy to mind my own business.”

“Then do so.” 

“Can’t do that.”  She slipped in front of him again.  “Look, just ask her out.  I bet she’d say yes.  One date.”

“I don’t date,” he said stiffly.

“Since  _when_?”

“Since forever,” he said, and she straightened up, looking surprised.

“Oh,” she said.  “Not  _ever_?”

“No.”

Dorothy looked awkward.

“Oh,” she said again.  “I didn’t realise you weren’t attracted to people that way.  Guess I read you wrong.  Sorry, dude, my bad.”

Gold grimaced.

“It’s not that,” he said, his voice cool.  “When I say forever, I just mean - I mean not for decades.  It has nothing to do with attraction.  It’s a personal choice, and frankly it’s none of your business.”

“Yeah, sure,” she said, stepping back so he could pass her.  “Sorry.  I’ll - I’ll butt out.”

“That would be wonderful, thank you,” he said, in a dry tone.  “Perhaps we might get on with some work.  I believe I have a photo shoot tomorrow, and given that I’m dying inside just thinking about it, I’d prefer to get around as many of the patients as we can.”

Dorothy snorted in amusement, falling into step beside him as he walked on.

“Okay, you win,” she said.  “I’ll stop teasing you.  For, like, at least a day.”

* * *

Gold couldn’t recall why the hell he had agreed to be photographed naked, and was convinced that he had still been sick at the time and that Jefferson had taken advantage.  There was no other reason for him to be standing in the corridor outside one of the operating theatres, which was thankfully not in need of use, along with four other men from the hospital staff.  Jefferson and Whale were looking positively gleeful, Leroy the security guard appeared his usual grumpy self, hands shoved in his pockets, and Dr Archie Hopper, the psychiatrist who ran a clinic in the hospital every Thursday, had an expression on his face that suggested he was facing a painful death.  Gold could understand how he felt.

The doors to the operating theatre swung open, and two women swept into the corridor, arms folded as they looked the little party over.  One had rich brown skin and shining dark hair worked into elaborate curls with gold highlights, a cream silk blouse above loose brown slacks. The other was pale and thin, her white-blonde hair cut into a bob that fell to her jaw.  She wore tight black leather pants and a white silk vest, and her red lips curved upwards at the sight of them.

“The first victims,” she purred.  “Jefferson, darling, how the devil are you?”

She stepped forward, kissing Jefferson on both cheeks.

“Thanks for agreeing to do this, Ella,” he said.  “I owe you one.”

“Oh, Ursula and I simply _had_ to come,” she said, waving a hand.  “Shocking the residents of small towns always _was_ our thing, you know.”

“Hey, I thought there were supposed to be six of you,” said Ursula.  “We need a Mr February.”

There was a patter of feet further down the hall, and Graham, one of the nurses, came hurtling into view, skidding to a halt as he reached them.  His firm chest heaved beneath his dark blue scrubs, perfect stubble setting off a handsome face.

“Sorry I’m late,” he gasped, and Ella and Ursula looked him over with approval.

“Oh, I think we can forgive a couple of minutes,” said Ursula.  “Why don’t you go first?”

They put their hands on his shoulders, steering him towards the double doors, and Graham glanced at the others with a faint look of panic in his eyes.

“Great,” grumbled Leroy.  “I’m supposed to follow the guy that looks like an underwear model?  The camera’ll break.”

“I don’t think any of us is expecting to come out of this with our dignity intact,” said Gold, in a very dry tone.

“Just smile for the camera and suck in your gut,” said Jefferson helpfully, and Leroy glared at him.

“Hey, this is _muscle_!” he snapped, patting his midriff.

Gold sighed, exchanging a glance with Archie and shaking his head.  Why the hell had he agreed to do this?

* * *

The photo shoot went reasonably quickly, considering, but Gold was made to wait until last.  He was growing steadily more irritated as each man came out and a name was called other than his.  When Jefferson came out, with a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, Ursula stuck her head around the door and beckoned to Archie, which made Gold sigh.   _Great.  So I’m Mr December.  Bloody feels like it, too._

“This calendar is gonna be an artistic _masterpiece_ ,” announced Jefferson, spreading his arms.  “You should have seen me, Gold! Tall and stoic - and almost impossibly handsome - gazing off into the distance as though I had just come up with the miracle cure for all ailments!  Dr Milliner, a modern day god, walking upon the earth so that mere mortals can—”

“Yes, alright,” interrupted Gold.  “I’m sure the camera shattered into pieces rather than be forced to take a picture of anyone else.  How much longer are they going to be?”

“Not long, keep your pants on,” said Jefferson.  “Or not, I guess.”

He waggled his eyebrows, and Gold rolled his eyes.

“I don’t know why I let you talk me into this.”

“Because I’m a good friend and you’re a good sport,” said Jefferson.  “You want me to come in with you?”

“No,” sighed Gold.  “I’ll be fine.  Is it just us?  Dorothy said she was posing, too.”

“Yeah, the women should be turning up any minute,” said Jefferson.  “Speaking of, I’d better get back to work. Try not to kill them with how awesome you are, okay?”

“I’ll try not to give them nightmares,” muttered Gold, and Jefferson chuckled and clapped him on the shoulder before heading off down the corridor.

By the time Archie Hopper came out, looking a little shell-shocked, Gold was beginning to lose patience.

“How did it go?” he asked Archie, who blinked at him from behind silver-rimmed glasses.

“I was reclining on a couch with an arm behind my head and a copy of _Psychiatric Times_ over my genitals,” he said, with a pained expression.  “Please don’t ever speak of it again.”

He hurried off, straightening his jacket, and Gold couldn’t help grinning.  The sound of the double doors behind him made him turn, and Ursula was smirking at him.

“Well, if it isn’t Mr December,” she said.  “Come on in.”

“At least let’s make it Dr December,” he said dryly, and strode forwards as though he was going to his doom.

The inside of the operating theatre had been transformed.  The equipment was still there, including the table and instruments, but there was also a couch, as Archie had mentioned, a radiography film viewer, a IV stand complete with a bag of saline, and large amounts of photographic equipment.  The woman called Ella looked up from her camera, pursing her lips as he walked in.  Music was playing from a stereo to her left, and Gold really wished they hadn't elected to play  _You Sexy Thing_.  He felt anything but.

“Right,” said Ella briskly.  “Let’s have a look at you, then.”

She straightened up, dusting off her hands and stepping closer.  She over-topped him by several inches, and she took his chin in between cool fingers, turning his head this way and that.

“Excellent bone structure,” she mused.  “ _Great_ hair.  I can definitely work with this.”

“You think people are going to be looking at my hair?” he asked, in a wry tone, and she released his chin and stepped back.

“Well, that’s really up to you,” she said.  “Take off those scrubs, let’s see what you’re hiding.”

“Nothing of any interest, I assure you.”

“I’ll be the judge of that, darling,” she said.  “We’re here to make you look as delicious as possible.  Just do as you’re told and it’ll all be over soon.”

Her matter-of-fact tone and air of brisk efficiency made him feel oddly at ease.  He supposed that as photographers, they saw bodies all the time. Much as he did, as a doctor.  He was simply a tool, a piece of material they used to create their art. It made it far easier to shed his clothes, and pretty soon he was naked, wriggling his toes on the cold floor as they stared at him with folded arms as though he were an interesting museum exhibit.

“So, you’re a doctor, right?” said Ursula.  “Do me a favour and loop that stethoscope around your neck.  You can use that clipboard to cover yourself if it makes you more comfortable.”

Gold obeyed, holding the clipboard over his groin, and she leaned in close, frowning slightly as she studied his face.

“I think we need a warmer filter,” she said to Ella.

“Agreed,” came the response.  “Something a little more golden.  Give me a second.”

“The pose is wrong, too,” said Ursula.  “Is there any position you’d prefer, Dr December?”

“I’d prefer it if no one could see my face, does that count?”

She chuckled.

“Oh, we can manage that,” she said, and turned her finger in a circle.  “Spin it around.”

Gold turned, putting his back to them, and heard a sharp intake of breath from Ella.

“Now _that_ ,” she announced.  “Is _definitely_ something I can use.  Turn ever so slightly to your right, Doctor.”

“Oh yes,” said Ursula approvingly.  “Raise the chart - there!”

Gold could hear the clicking of the camera from behind him, so he stood as still as he could, the clipboard with its chart held up in front of him, as though he were checking someone’s vitals.  Naked. He supposed it wasn’t too bad, really. If cold.

“If you could raise your left arm?” asked Ella.  “Just run your fingers through your hair and breathe in.”

He obeyed, feeling a slight stretch on his left side, his back arching a little as he sucked in a breath, and he heard a sound from the both of them that was almost a purr.

“That’s _perfect_ , darling,” drawled Ella, and the camera clicked and whirred.

They asked for a couple more poses, instructing him to turn slightly, bend a little, or raise the chart in his hands.  He was starting to get cold, and he was relieved when they announced from behind him that they were done.

“ _Marvellous_ , darling,” said Ella.  “I think you’ll like the finished product.”

“I won’t exactly be making it into my official Christmas card,” he remarked, wriggling back into his scrubs.

“Oh, _you_ may not,” she said slyly.  “But I have a feeling many a woman with a doctor kink will be getting hot and bothered this Christmas.”

Gold closed his eyes with a pained expression as he shrugged on his lab coat.

“I didn’t need that mental image, thank you.”

“Well, you’ll be happy to know you’re free to go,” said Ursula.  “Tell Jefferson he owes us a drink, and we’re coming to collect when we’re done.”

“I’m sure he’ll be delighted,” said Gold, and bowed his head.  “Ladies.”

They sent him almost identical grins, and he sighed to himself and headed for the door, pushing it open and stopping dead.  Six women were staring at him, most of them grinning. Dorothy was in front, and sent him a wink, but behind her were Astrid, Alice, Zelena Mills, Mary Margaret Blanchard, and - to his horror - Belle.  She was staring at him with wide eyes, and he wanted to sigh. _Well, Jefferson did say everyone..._

“Hey Dr Gold,” said Alice, winking at him.  “Sorry we missed the show. If you want to give us a sneak preview I’m sure there’s time…”

“I think not,” he said severely, and she giggled.

“I’m just teasing,” she said.  “You’re not my type. I mean you’re _really_ not my type.”

“I’m delighted to hear it,” he said.  “If you’ll excuse me.”

He could feel their eyes on him as he walked off.

“Well,” he heard Zelena say, in a satisfied tone of voice.  “Guess who’s pre-ordering twelve copies of this thing?”


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Tell me about your son"
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "God, I hate doing Secret Santa!"

Belle stared at the rippling surface of what was left of her gin and tonic, a pleasant buzz from the two she had already drunk flowing through her.  Across from her, Astrid and Dorothy were chatting about some film that had recently started airing, and which Belle hadn’t seen. Alice had gone to the bar for the next round, with Zelena and Mary Margaret offering to help her carry the drinks.

The photo shoot hadn’t been the humiliating spectacle she had been dreading; the photographers had been extremely professional, and had made her feel wholly at ease.  Besides, the pose she had chosen had been sensual rather than smutty, she felt. Time and the finished product would tell, but she felt a lot happier about the whole process now that it was over.  The girls had all agreed to go to the Rabbit Hole afterwards, and while a night out with Zelena wasn’t one she would have chosen, the woman had been reasonably pleasant. All in all, the day could have been worse.

Gold was still keeping her at arm’s length, and she hadn’t been able to work out why.  Things had been strained ever since she had woken up in his bed, so perhaps it was simply that.  Perhaps that was too much of an invasion of his privacy. She supposed she could understand that, although it hurt that he didn’t feel he could talk to her about it.  She had kept their interactions professional after that first meeting in the corridor; she figured he would come to her in his own time. It was frustrating, but she certainly wasn’t about to force herself on the poor man any more than she already had.

“Here you go,” Mary Margaret set another drink in front of her, and slid into her seat.  “Too bad Ruby had to work. It’s so rare that we all get a night off.”

“Gets even rarer around Christmas,” said Astrid.  “Glinda already put up the shift rota for next month, did you guys see?”

“She doesn’t mind if we swap shifts around as long as there’s enough cover,” said Zelena.  “Same with you assistants, I’m sure.”

“I could really do with taking New Year off,” said Mary Margaret.  “But I don’t mind working Christmas, if someone wants to swap.”

“I don’t mind covering,” said Belle.  “I could use the money, and it’s not like I have anything better planned.”

Mary Margaret beamed at her, and nodded.

“No date for New Year?” asked Astrid, and Belle pulled a face.

“Other than the disaster of a blind date Ruby sent me on?” she asked.  “I haven’t dated anyone since Will. That must be - oh, I don’t know. A year, at least.”

“Bad breakup?” asked Dorothy, and Belle shook her head.

“No, he was great,” she insisted.  “We were friends before we started seeing each other, and we’re still friends now.”

“But it didn’t work out?” asked Astrid sympathetically, and Belle wrinkled her nose.

“Not in that way,” she said.  “We thought maybe we could be more than friends, but when it came to it, the physical side of things just felt - weird.  Like kissing my brother would feel, if I had one.”

“That sucks,” said Astrid, wrinkling her nose.  “Did you keep in touch?”

“Kind of,” said Belle.  “He went travelling after college - sometimes I get an email out of the blue, but I haven’t seen him since we graduated.  Last I heard he was teaching English in Laos, or something.”

“Storybrooke’s not exactly overflowing with potential partners if you’re into guys,” said Alice, slumping in her chair next to Dorothy.  “That coma patient’s probably the best catch out there right now.”

“Alice!”

“I’m not even joking,” she said, swinging a boot up onto her knee.  “When the poor guy wakes up he’ll probably find a bunch of people’s phone numbers in his pockets.”

The others chuckled, but Belle noticed that Mary Margaret was blushing even as she smiled.

“What about you guys?” she asked.  “Anything fun planned for New Year?”

“Party at Granny’s,” said Mary Margaret.  “There’s one every year, it’s so much fun.  You sure you don’t want to come?”

“Maybe next year,” said Belle, taking a slurp of her drink.  “Someone’s got to work, right?”

“Well, I’m certainly going,” said Zelena.  “The calendar will be out by then, and I may as well make the most of it.”

“Make the most of it how?” asked Alice, reaching for her drink.  “From what you said the pose didn’t leave much to the imagination.”

“Well, perhaps not,” said Zelena, with a smirk.  “But it may have whetted the appetite of - someone - don’t you think?”

“Oh for God’s sake!” sighed Dorothy.  “Zelena, would you let it go? Dr Gold is never gonna ask you out!  Not ever!”

“Did he tell you that?” snapped Zelena.

“No, but—”

“Well then!”

Dorothy rolled her eyes.

“Look, if you want to continue throwing yourself at him and creeping him out, be my guest,” she said.  “But you’re wasting your time. He doesn’t date.”

“Well, that’s just because he’s so busy.”

“No, I mean he _doesn’t date_ ,” she said patiently.  “Not ever. He told me so.”

“Oh.”  Zelena pursed her lips, and picked up her drink.  “Well. I always did relish a challenge.”

The others groaned, and Belle shared a glance of despair with Mary Margaret before turning back to her drink.  She chewed her lip as the others started talking about their plans for Christmas again. If Gold didn’t date, then pining after him made her as ridiculous as Zelena.  Was that why he had pulled away? Had she been too obvious, too desperate? The thought made her cringe. Perhaps she should concentrate on building the friendship they had been developing, and try to forget her attraction to him.  Perhaps that could be enough.

* * *

Her head was aching a little the next day; Mary Margaret was surprisingly enthusiastic once she had downed a few vodka tonics, and had insisted on doing shots.  Belle was thankful she had limited her intake to one round; footage of the resulting table-top rendition of _I Will Survive_ was already being shared on Facebook, and she was pleased it only featured Dorothy, Mary Margaret and Alice.

The hospital was relatively quiet; the last of the flu patients were being discharged, and the staff took the opportunity to take a breath and do a deep clean of the wards under the watchful eye of Nurse South.  Belle went through her mobile library, collecting the books that had been read and left in the wards and reading a story to the few children that were in hospital. She then read to old Mr Prentice, a chapter or two of _Lord of the Rings_ as he lay in bed with his eyes closed, his beard twitching.  She thought he had drifted into sleep, but when she finished her chapter and closed the book he opened his eyes and smiled at her, reaching out to pat her hand.

“Thank you, Miss French,” he said.  “My eyes get worse every day, and your voice is so lovely, it’s like being carried off by angels to a land of dreams.”

“I’m not sure an attack by orcs is all that pleasant a dream,” she teased.

He chuckled, a low deep noise that became a cough, and she helped him to sit up and poured him some water.

“The doctors say you can go home tomorrow,” she said.  “Do you have someone to help you?”

“Yes, yes, the sisters from the convent come in every day,” he said.  “I won’t be alone for Christmas. What about you?”

Belle paused, setting down the water jug.

“Well, it’ll just be me and my Dad, I guess,” she said.  “Maybe a couple of parties with the girls. It’ll be nice.  Quiet.”

“Friendship is as important as family,” he said.  “For those of us with no family, even more so, I suppose.”

His words made her think of Gold, alone in his big house for the holidays, and Belle chewed her lip.

“Did you ever have family?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“Too busy,” he said.  “Too wrapped up in my own world, in teaching the children of others.  Oh, I wouldn’t say I regret it, but it’s made me realise the importance of other relationships.  Good friends are essential. Cherish the ones you have.”

Belle nodded, smiling a little as she thought of the friendships she had made since coming to Storybrooke, and how they were all developing into close, meaningful ties with people she truly cared about.  All except one.  Her friendship with Gold had stalled, and she wanted to give it a push, to get it moving again. Her thoughts drifted back to the picture in his drawer, the well-thumbed glass and the gilt frame, the young boy with his dark eyes and dimpled smile.  Perhaps family would provide the route to friendship.  Perhaps he would talk about his son.

* * *

She got her chance the very next day after her shift at the hospital.  Jefferson had invited her to his daughter’s tea party, which he assured her would be promptly followed by wine and adult interaction once the children started doing their own thing.  Belle went along after her shift with Alice in tow, to shake hands with Mr White, Grace’s toy rabbit, and be served finger sandwiches and tea and little cupcakes. Dr Gold accepted a cup with a bow and a grave word of thanks, which made Grace giggle, and Dr Whale was already trying to flirt with two of the nurses.  There were other children there too, Grace’s friends from school. They soon lost interest in sitting quietly and drinking tea, and headed out to the garden for a snowball fight.

The adults were left in peace to chat, and Jefferson put on some music and opened some wine.  Belle took her glass out to the back porch, away from the bustle of the lounge. She found Gold standing there and sipping at his own, a tiny smile on his face as he watched the children chase one another, kicking up clouds of white powder and squealing with excitement.  The air was cold, and she shivered a little.

“I’m not sure if it’s more peaceful out here or in there,” she remarked, and Gold turned his head to face her, a brief smile making his mouth twitch.

“Well, it’s certainly colder,” he said, taking a drink.

_The weather.  We’re discussing the weather.  Better than an awkward silence, I suppose._

“At least we get a white Christmas,” she said brightly, and he sighed.

“With all the broken bones and injuries that implies,” he said.  “Whale and I have a bet each year whether amateur ice skating will bring in more patients than food poisoning.  This year I’m going with the ice skating.”

“Are you working on Christmas Day?” she asked, and he took a swallow of wine.

“I am.  You?”

“Oh - New Year,” she said.  “I swapped with Mary Margaret.”

Gold nodded, looking away again.

“I notice that those with families tend to want Christmas off work, and those with social lives tend to want New Year,” he said dryly.  “Of course, for those of us with neither, it hardly matters.”

Belle smiled, and took a deep breath, hand tightening on her wine glass as she looked at him.

“Tell me about your son,” she said gently, and Gold whipped his head around to face her, his expression suddenly, unexpectedly blank.

“What?” he whispered, and she put her head to the side.

“The picture in your nightstand?” she prompted.  “It’s your son, right?”

He was staring at her, and it was making her feel nervous, her heart starting to thump painfully in her chest.  Gold licked his lips.

“You went through my things?” he asked, his voice low and even, and she blinked.

“What?” she said, her voice wobbling a little.  “No! No, it wasn’t that! I’m - I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, it’s just - I was looking for a Kleenex, and I went in your drawer, and - and I saw the photo, that’s all.  I wasn’t snooping, I promise.”

He was still staring at her, and it felt as though something had crawled into her chest, a hard ball of nerves pricking at her lungs.  Eventually Gold blinked, and it was as though a spell was broken, and she could breathe again.

“Excuse me,” he said quietly.  “I have to - I have - I have things to do…”

He was gone so quickly it was like magic, and she was left in the cold, trying to catch her breath, and wondering what the hell she had done wrong.

* * *

Dr Gold was contemplating when it was that his life had started to spiral out of control, and after some consideration over the whisky he was nursing, he decided that he could narrow it down to one day in early November when he had been introduced to Belle French.  Up to that point he had enjoyed decades of - well, if not happiness, at least a sort of calm acceptance of his lot. He had a worthwhile vocation that he enjoyed and that he was extremely good at, one busy enough to leave him little time to contemplate the emptiness of his life outside work.  He had just enough social interaction with the few people he could stand that he had never considered himself to be lonely, and he enjoyed shutting himself away in his too-big house with his books and his wine and his music. It had all seemed perfectly acceptable. Until she came along.

He curled his lip a little, taking a sip of the whisky as he leaned forward on the bar.  It had been two weeks since Grace’s tea party, and was now well into December. The town was covered in coloured lights and brimming over with what felt like forced festive cheer, and it made him want to growl at people.  Drinking alone at Granny’s perhaps wasn’t the most productive use of his time, but it had been a long day and he figured he deserved a whisky. For some reason he hadn’t wanted to go home and drink one alone in his study as he usually would, and he had been mulling over that strange fact ever since he had arrived and taken a seat at the bar.  He was sure there was a reasonable explanation for it, but his brain kept circling back to Belle. For reasons he couldn’t quite understand, the house had felt empty since she had gone, the tick of the clocks too loud, the kitchen too quiet. Gold took another sip of his whisky. Perhaps he should get a cat.

He rolled his shoulders, trying to relieve the ache in them.  He should never have let Belle stay in his home; things had been awkward ever since she had left, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it, or indeed whether she had even noticed.  Her asking about Neal had thrown him, and he was aware that he had been accusatory, dismissive, almost rude. But Belle still smiled at him and greeted him warmly, despite him appearing to lose the ability to speak in her presence.  Despite him saying the wrong thing whenever he _did_ manage to find words.

He took another drink, feeling despondent, and the door opened behind him with a blast of cold air.  Gold scowled, glancing to the side as a familiar figure slid onto the stool next to him.

“Hey,” said Dorothy, draping an arm around his shoulders.  “Thought I’d make your Yuletide a little more gay. You want another drink?”

Gold held up his glass just as Ruby came out of the kitchen.  She stared at Dorothy, blushed, and turned her attention to him with a wide smile.

“Same again,” he said.

“I’ll pay,” announced Dorothy.  “Can I get a rum and coke and a plate of cheese fries?”

“Sure!” said Ruby, a little too brightly, and almost ran back into the kitchen.  Gold shook his head.

“So,” said Dorothy, and he was amused to see that her cheeks were tinged pink.  “You all ready for Christmas?”

“Given that it’s a day like any other, I expect so,” he said, in a very dry tone.

“Don’t tell me you’re gonna sit at home alone crying into your whisky,” she said reprovingly.

“Certainly not,” he said.  “I’ll have a perfectly pleasant day by myself, as always.”

Dorothy grunted, as though she didn’t believe him, but just then Ruby came back out, and made their drinks.  Her fingers brushed Dorothy’s as she handed it over, and the two of them jumped as though they’d been electrocuted.  The rum and coke swayed alarmingly, and Gold reached out to steady it, shooting Dorothy an amused look.

“Sorry!” said Ruby, wincing, and ran off again.

Gold turned his attention to his whisky, allowing Dorothy to regain her own composure.

“So,” she said, still blushing.  “You get your Secret Santa present picked out?”

Gold groaned, letting his head droop.

“God, I hate doing Secret Santa!” he grumbled, and Dorothy gave him a sympathetic look, patting his shoulder.

“Don’t stress too much about it,” she said.  “You don’t have to buy from the heart, it’s a work thing.  Just think about what the person’s interests are. Or booze is usually a safe bet.  Whose name did you get, anyway?”

“Zelena,” he said flatly, and she slumped on her stool.

“Oh.”

“Exactly,” he growled.  “What the hell am I supposed to give her?  I know her: she'll find out it was me, and anything I buy she’s gonna misinterpret as some sort of come-on.”

“Well, that’s true.”  She seemed to deflate a little, then brightened.  “A restraining order?”

Gold barked a laugh.  “Don’t tempt me.”

“No, I’m serious!” she insisted.  “I can get Mulan to print one off at the station.  We could add some tinsel, make it a festive fuck-you!”

Gold sighed, running a hand over his face.

“Who did you get, anyway?” he asked.

She drew out a small slip of paper from her pocket, waving it enticingly.

“I got Belle,” she said.  “Want to swap?”

Gold sighed again.

“I don’t think so,” he said.  “I think - I think I’ve screwed things up with her.  Not exactly a surprise, but there we go.”

“How so?”

Gold grimaced, turning back to his whisky.

“She - she tried to reach out,” he said heavily.  “And I did what I always do. I pushed her away.”

“Wow,” remarked Dorothy.  “If I’d known all it took was a couple of drinks to get you self-aware, I’d have gotten you hammered the day I got here.”

He pulled a face at her, and she put an arm around him, squeezing him.

“Can you fix it?” she asked.

“Maybe,” he sighed.  “Maybe not, I don’t know.”

“Do you _want_ to fix it?”

“Yes,” he said decidedly.  “I want - I want us to be friends.”

“Well, that’s a good start,” she said.

“I just don’t know how,” he added.  “Whenever I want to talk to her, something goes wrong in my brain and I say something ludicrously stupid.  Or offensive. Or both.”

“Oh, man,” sighed Dorothy.  “That’s just being in love. Trust me.”

“I’m not in love!” he snapped.  “I’m just - I don’t want to hurt her.  I want us to get along. That’s all.”

She was eyeing him with an expression of supreme disbelief, but to her credit she said nothing.

“Okay.”  She reached for her drink.  “Why don’t you start with an apology?  Maybe some flowers or something?”

“Right,” he said.  “Yes. I could do that.”

“Good,” she said.  “So that’s your task for tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay,” he agreed.  “Right.”

“Now you want to make me responsible for Zelena’s Secret Santa present, or what?”

Gold grinned, and fished in his pocket for the slip of paper.

"She's all yours."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Gold is forced to recognise his feelings for Belle"

Apologising to Belle had seemed easy when he was drinking whisky in Granny’s, but now it was the cold light of day, and Gold was staring at himself in the bathroom mirror, trying to think of what he would say.  His mind went blank every time he tried to come up with something, and it was making him want to avoid the issue altogether. It didn’t help that the morning light picked out every line around his eyes and mouth and what looked like twice as many grey hairs as the previous day.  His mouth twisted at the thought of Belle, young and lovely and beautiful. Just thinking about her made him feel old and awkward. But she was kind to him, and she had said they were friends, and he was surprised to find that he treasured that friendship, such as it was.

Realising that he cared what Belle thought of him still didn’t give him anything to work with in terms of an apology, and he grumbled under his breath as he tried to construct an opening sentence in his head.  It wasn’t getting any easier, the words slipping from the front of his mind and skittering away to hide in dark corners. He was tempted to do what he always did when confronted with social problems that he couldn’t handle, which was to ignore them, find something to keep him busy, and wait until the problem went away.  The thought of Dorothy tearing a strip off him gave him pause, and he sighed, shaking his head at his own reflection.

“You’re a useless fucking idiot,” he said aloud.

Insulting himself wasn’t bringing him any closer to making things right with Belle, so he sighed, turned away, and headed downstairs to make the journey to the hospital.  He still hadn’t come up with anything even approaching a plan by the time he got there, and he muttered to himself, cursing his own stupidity. He decided he was just going to have to play it by ear.

As it turned out, Belle wasn’t due on shift until late that afternoon, which meant that he would get the chance to talk to her for mere minutes, if that.  Surprisingly, that made him feel better. Even he should be able to stumble his way through a few words of apology. Unfortunately, despite having told himself he wouldn’t plan what to say, he still kept running over potential lines in his head, and by the time Belle came on shift he felt as though he wanted to scream.

He had been speaking to the mother of an injured child when he first heard her voice in the corridor outside.  It made his heart lift, and he hurriedly reassured the woman that her son’s wrist was only sprained, not broken, advised on suitable painkillers, and left Graham bandaging the child’s hand and arm to keep it supported.  Gold plucked nervously at the edge of his white coat as he strode out into the corridor, his cane tapping on the tiled floor. Belle was talking with Dorothy, gesturing as she laughed about something, and Gold stopped dead.

_Flowers.  I was gonna buy her flowers.  Bollocks!_

Belle and Dorothy were now staring at him, and for one awful moment he worried that he had spoken aloud.

“Hey Dr Gold,” said Dorothy.  “You still here? I thought you were doing the early shift today.”

“I—” _Sod the flowers, they’ll have to bloody wait._ “Yes, I was just finishing a few things up, that’s all.”

“Oh.”  Dorothy looked from Belle back to him, her eyes widening in a meaningful glare.  “Well, no rest for the wicked. I’ll see you guys later.”

She almost ran from the corridor, and Gold was left facing Belle.  Trying to pull words from his brain into his mouth was like trying to grasp at smoke, and he stood there screaming internally, his knuckles white where he gripped his cane.

“Hey,” said Belle.

The sound of her voice almost made him collapse with relief.  It was as though she had walked into the darkened room of his brain and turned on the light.

“Hey,” he said.  “I - ah - I was hoping to bump into you.”

“Well, here I am,” she said lightly, lifting her arms and letting them drop.  “Is there something I can help you with, Dr Gold?”

He cringed at her formal use of his name.

“I - that is - I know what I said, but you don’t have to call me that,” he said in a rush, and Belle looked confused.

“Sorry?”

“You don’t have to call me Dr Gold,” he said.  “Not if you don’t want to. You can - you can call me Stirling.”

“Oh,” she said.  “Okay. It was just that you said—”

“I know,” he interrupted.  “I know what I said. You - you shouldn’t take any notice of the things I say.  It’s utter bollocks most of the time.”

Belle giggled, her eyes sparkling.

“Really?  Do the patients know?”

“They’ve - they’ve told me so themselves,” he said, and she laughed again.  It gave him some much-needed confidence. This was going well: at least as well as could be expected.

“I’m sorry,” he said then.  “At Grace’s party. I - I was rude.”

Belle took a step closer.

“No,” she said.  “No, you weren’t rude.  I was - I was nosy. I shouldn’t have asked you about your personal life, it’s nothing to do with me.”

“It’s just—”  He glanced away for a second.  “I wasn’t expecting the question.  I - I didn’t have time to prepare for it.  Does that make any sense?”

One of the nurses hurried past him, and he realised that they were standing in a busy corridor.  He ran a hand over his face.

“Look, do you have time to get a cup of coffee?” he asked, and her eyebrows rose in surprise.

“Of course.”

The canteen wasn’t far, but it seemed to take ages to reach.  Gold walked as fast as he could, so fast that Belle was almost trotting to keep up, and they made their way in silence.  His brain was at war with itself, the sensible part praising him for reaching out and the other, larger part screaming that he wouldn’t know what to say and that everything was going to go wrong.  He managed to dampen the conflicting thoughts to a muted buzz long enough to order them two coffees and carry them to an empty table. Belle sat across from him, folding her hands on the table and waiting for him to speak.

“Right,” he said.  “Okay.”

There was more silence, which seemed to stretch and grow, flattening his tongue to the roof of his mouth and making him mute.  He gazed down at his hands, fingers tapping restlessly on the table top.

“You - wanted to tell me something,” Belle prompted gently.

He looked up, meeting her eyes, as wide and blue as the winter sky.

“You - you found the picture of my son,” he managed, and somehow those few words made it easier to speak. “His name was Neal.  He was - he was the most important thing in my life.  And - and I lost him.”

Belle’s face had clouded at his words, and her mouth flattened a little, her eyes heavy with sympathy.

“I’m so sorry,” she said gently.

“He was only five,” he went on.  “Meningitis.  I - I was pretty young, still at university.  I thought he had all the warning signs, but when I took him to the hospital, they disagreed.  Tried to send us home.  The hospital was busy, and - and they told me I was making a fuss, that he just had a stomach upset, that he’d be fine—”

He cut off, glancing away.  After all these years, it still hurt almost too much to bear.  Gold swallowed hard, and started as a warm hand slid over his. He looked back to Belle, and she was gazing at him with sorrow in her eyes.  Somehow it made him feel a little better.

“The doctor there told me he was just feeling under the weather and wanted attention,” he said quietly.  “But I knew my son. I knew there was something seriously wrong. By the time the convulsions started, it was too late.”

Belle’s hand tightened on his, and he licked his lips, staring down at where her pale fingers covered his own.

“I lost him,” he whispered.  “It was the worst day of my life.”

“I’m so terribly sorry,” she said gently.  “I know there’s nothing I can say to make you feel better.”

Gold nodded, sliding his hand out from under hers and reaching for his coffee.  He realised that he missed the warmth of her touch, and cupped the mug of coffee to compensate.

“Was - was that what made you decide to become a doctor?” ventured Belle, and he looked up.

“Oh, I was already studying medicine,” he said.  “It - it just meant that I was determined that I would listen to patients, to parents.  That I would never assume I knew everything. And so I did. Until one day I didn’t.”

He was silent again, and Belle waited for him to speak.

“You may be wondering why I decided to move here from New York,” he said.  “I know others have wondered. Why would I give up the money and prestige of being one of the top doctors in the North East to come and work in a small town hospital setting broken bones and lecturing people about their weekend alcohol intake?”

“It - it’s something I’ve heard people mention,” she admitted, and he nodded, letting out a sigh.

“I made the wrong call,” he said simply.  “I was busy, I thought other patients needed me more, and I made the wrong call.  Because of that, a young man died.  Because of me.”

“I’m sure it’s not that simple,” said Belle carefully, and he shook his head.

“It was to my mind,” he said.  “I did something I had always sworn I wouldn’t.  I didn’t listen, or - or at least I _did_ listen, but I thought I knew better.  And so I came here, where I thought I could get to know all my patients.  Where there was less risk of me having to give some poor parent the news that I got, all those years ago.”

Belle sat back a little, reaching for her coffee.

“Did it help?” she asked.  “Coming here?”

Gold hesitated. _Did it help?  I’m not sure.  It makes me feel a little better about myself.  Do I deserve that?_

”I don’t know,” he said honestly.  “Perhaps it’s too soon to say.”

She nodded, taking a sip of coffee, and he turned his attention to his.  He felt better for telling her, as though a little of the weight around his heart had been lifted.

“So…” he said quietly.  “Anyway. That’s why I was - weird.  The other day.”

“You weren’t weird,” she assured him.  “And I’m glad you told me. We’re friends, after all.  Right?”

He smiled at that, clutching the mug a little tighter.

“Yes,” he said.  “We’re friends. Thank you, Belle.”

* * *

Being on good terms with Belle again made his heart lighter, and the world a little brighter.  So much so that he couldn’t seem to stop smiling to himself as he changed out of his scrubs. Jefferson eyed him from the other side of the locker room.

“You’re in a good mood,” he said.  “Finally got some of that Christmas spirit I keep trying to bring out in you?”

“Maybe,” said Gold.  “Better late than never.  You want to come for a drink?”

Jefferson sighed.

“Man, I’d love to, but I can’t.  Grace gets home from choir practice in like half an hour.”

“Some other time, then.”

“Tomorrow, if you like,” suggested Jefferson.  “She’s having a sleepover with one of her friends.  You want to go to Granny’s?”

“Well, it’s better than that dive of a bar,” said Gold, shrugging on his overcoat.

“It’s a date,” said Jefferson, with a grin.  “Oh, hey, speaking of dates...”

Gold eyed him suspiciously.  “Yes?”

“What are you doing New Year’s Eve?”

“I’m working,” said Gold.  “I always work the holidays, you know that.”

“So, you’re not taking a night off and asking the lovely Miss French out, then?” said Jefferson, with a grin.  “A little drinking, a little dancing, the possibility of kisses at midnight…”

Gold sighed heavily.

“Have you been talking to Dorothy?”

“No!” said Jefferson, looking affronted.  “Well yes, but that’s not the point. The point is that Belle likes you, you like her—”

“We’re friends.”

“Friends who want to have sex.”

“Jefferson…”

“Tell me it isn’t true.”

Gold sighed, slamming the door of his locker shut and leaning against it with the palm of one hand.  He turned his head towards Jefferson, shaking his hair back.

"Alright," he said.  "Let's say it's true.  Do you know how long it’s been since I dated?”

“Not as long as it’ll be if you continue to pine after her and say nothing,” said Jefferson, folding his arms.

“Okay,” said Gold.  “What if I do ask her out and she says no?  I mean - I mean she says we’re friends. She’s never hinted she wants anything more than that.”

“Neither have you.”

That was true.  He frowned as he considered it.

“Just - just ask her out to dinner,” suggested Jefferson.  “You’re not proposing, just tell her you like her and ask her out to dinner.  What’s the worst that could happen?”

“You do realise by saying that you’ve jinxed this entire plan?”

“Don’t be such a wiener.”

“Fine!” snapped Gold, pushing back from the locker.  “I’ll ask her out. Happy?”

“When you call me in a panic to say you need my emergency condom stash I’ll be _ecstatic_.”

“I’m going home,” said Gold sourly.

“Okay, but don’t forget we’re going to Granny’s tomorrow,” said Jefferson.  “Seven p.m., okay? That means you can ask Belle to dinner and drown your sorrows if she says no.”

“You said she wouldn’t say no!”

“There are no guarantees in this life, Gold.”

Gold sighed again, tugging the collar of his coat up.

“Fine,” he said wearily.  “I’ll ask her. If she says no, the whisky’s on you.”

“Deal.”

* * *

The next day dawned bright and sunny, and Gold took it as a good omen.  He showered and shaved and dressed carefully in his suit, dark red shirt and tie, and freshly polished shoes.  Looking in the mirror made him wince a little; he was still very obviously considerably older than Belle, but he told himself that perhaps that didn’t matter to her.  She was the sort of person that saw the good in everyone, after all.

As he had forgotten to buy her flowers to accompany his apology, he decided to remedy that, and called the florist before heading out to work, arranging for a bouquet to be sent to the hospital that afternoon, in time for the end of his shift.  He was aware that Belle was working that day, but he hadn’t wanted to approach her in the hospital, preferring to wait until they were both outside work. It seemed more appropriate, more likely to keep their work and personal lives separate, which he suspected she would want.  He wanted to ask her to dinner as Stirling Gold, her friend, not as Dr Gold, her superior.

The thought of asking her out on a date filled him with a sort of heady excitement, and he could barely eat. The day seemed to crawl, but eventually it was the end of his shift, and he hurriedly changed back into his suit, picked up the flowers that had been delivered, and walked out of the hospital main doors, hoping to meet Belle on her way out.

She was talking with Astrid when he saw her, and he hung back a little, letting them walk ahead of him, and waiting for them to go their separate ways.  Astrid was giggling as Belle gestured wildly, her face animated as she told whatever story of a nightmare patient she was recounting. It made him smile to see the light in her eyes.  The two women hugged, and Astrid took a step back, clearly about to leave. Gold tensed, rising up on his toes as he clutched the bunch of flowers in his free hand.

Before he could take a step, a young man appeared out of nowhere and Belle clapped her hands to her mouth before letting out a shriek of delight and hurling herself into his arms.  The young man laughed, swinging her around as he spun in a circle, Belle’s feet flying out behind.  He was her age, his hair close-cropped, and as he set her back down Belle stretched up on her toes and kissed him before settling back on her heels and swatting him playfully.

“I thought you were in _Laos_!” she squeaked.

“Oh, that must be Will,” said Zelena, in a conversational tone.

Her voice made him jump, and he glanced around, unnerved by how she had approached so silently, without him noticing.

“Who the hell is Will?” he asked, and she smiled at him, tossing back her red curls.

“Her boyfriend, of course,” she said.  “She was talking about him in the Rabbit Hole the other night. Apparently he was teaching in Laos. The poor thing missed him so much, she wasn’t sure he’d ever come back.  And here he is, like a Christmas miracle. Looks as though her luck’s in. And his, wouldn’t you say?”

It was as though he had taken a blow to the chest, the force of it making him want to stagger, but he sucked in a breath and held it, clutching the handle of his cane and trying to ignore the ringing in his ears and the pain in his heart.  Belle was laughing, her eyes sparkling as she gazed up at the man who wasn’t him, her hands clutching the front of his coat.  They were talking, heads close together as though they wanted to shut out the rest of the world.  She looked radiant.  She looked happy.

“Did someone get you flowers?” asked Zelena then.  “I got some chocolates from one of the patients the other day.  Nice thought, but I assume you’d prefer whisky.”

Gold ignored her, turning on his heel and stalking away towards where he had parked the car.   _Of course she has someone.  Why wouldn’t she? She’s everything that’s sweet and pure and wonderful.  She deserves far better than a bitter old cripple twice her age. She deserves the world._


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @ripperblackstaff prompted: "may I add the prompt where KOL!Gold turns up with flowers to thank Belle for having taken care of him, and sees her with Will and thinks he's her boyfriend ?"
> 
> So it's all Ripper's fault. I tweaked the prompt a little re the reason for the flowers :)

Gold was halfway towards the Cadillac before he decided that he wasn’t in the frame of mind to drive.  He turned on his heel, striding off towards the town at a pace that he knew was going to cause him a lot of pain by the time he lay down to sleep that night.  He found that he didn’t much care; the pain in his leg would distract from the hollow feeling in his chest, the space where his heart had trying to make itself known again after so many years of wasting away.

He strode along, head down, lost in bitter self-loathing, and his subconscious whispered soothingly that it was only to be expected.  Opening his heart had only ever led to loss. He had been a fool to think otherwise. He had been a fool to hope.

By the time he reached the main streets he was tired and in pain, and he couldn’t face the slog through the snow to his own house.  He went to Granny’s instead, pushing open the door and taking a seat at the bar with a sigh of relief. The bunch of flowers was looking a little windswept by its swift passage from the hospital, and he dropped it on the bar, ordering a whisky from Miss Lucas, hesitating slightly, then making it a double.  She poured it for him with a sympathetic smile, but didn’t fall into the cliché of asking whether he had had a rough day. He supposed it was obvious to anyone who could see him. He took a drink, wiping a droplet of whisky from his lip and letting it burn its way down inside. The arrival of Dorothy was a welcome distraction.

“Hey!” she said, a little breathlessly.  “Hell of a day, huh? You wanna buy me a drink?”

“Here,” said Gold, shoving the flowers at her.  Dorothy took them, brow crinkling in puzzlement.

“What are these for?”

“Flowers,” he said impatiently.  “Stick them in a vase or something.  Or take them home, I don’t care.”

“Okay, it’s just - why are you giving them to me?”

“Maybe I’m grateful for all the good work you’ve done at the hospital since you got here,” he said shortly, and she gave him a look.

“I know you _are_ ,” she said.  “I also know that you’re a thoughtful sort of guy, and I very much doubt you bought these flowers for your favourite lesbian when you know in your _heart_ she’d prefer a decent bottle of vodka.”

“Do you want the flowers or not?” he snapped.

Dorothy put her hands on her hips, the plastic wrapper crinkling around the bouquet.

“Oh, I’ll take ‘em,” she said.  “If you tell me who they were really meant for.  And if the answer is anything other than sweet little Belle French who you’re very clearly _totally_ in love with, you’re an idiot.  Come to think of it, you’re an idiot anyway for giving these to me when you should be presenting them to her on bended knee while you apologise for being an asshat and ask her out for dinner.”

“I don’t—”

“Followed by lots of sex, future marriage and babies,” she added.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he said repressively.

“Which bit?”  She grinned at him.  “The part about you being an idiot or the part about you being in love with Belle?  Did I lose you at the marriage and babies part?”

“I did apologise!” he snapped.  “I took your advice. And Jefferson’s, for all the good it did.”

“You’re not seriously telling me she told you to shove it?”

“Of course not…”  He took a sip of his drink.  “She accepted my apology, said we were friends.  She was very gracious about it.”

“Well then,” she said.  “Now you can move on to the next step, right?  Ask her out. Tell her you’re totally in love with her and you want to see her naked.”

“For fuck’s sake—”

“You can offer to let her see _you_ naked as a sweetener,” she added.

“I’m not in love with Belle!” he insisted, ignoring both the comments on nudity and the fact that he was almost certainly lying.  “And - and even if I was, it wouldn’t make any difference. She’s seeing someone.”

Dorothy’s eyebrows shot up.

“Since _when_?”

“Since he turned up outside the hospital and swept her off her feet,” he said, his tone impatient.

“Really?”  Dorothy gave him a flat look.  “Who is this lothario?”

“I don’t know,” he muttered.  “Short hair. Her age. Zelena says they’re together.”

“You believed something _Zelena_ said?”

“Well…”  He frowned at that.  “I don’t think she was lying.  They were all over each other.”

“In what way?”

“In the hugging and kissing way, what do you think?” he said shortly.

“Hmm.”  Dorothy took a slurp of her drink.  “Tongue?”

“I wasn’t exactly gonna walk over there and check,” he snapped.

“So they could just be friends.”

“Friends that like to kiss each other,” he grumbled.

“I kiss my friends.”  She leaned in and pressed a warm kiss to his cheek, leaving the scent of flowers in his nose.  “See? And trust me, I _really_ don’t want to sleep with you.”

Gold had to grin at that.

“Your loss,” he quipped.

“That’s the spirit.”  She clinked her glass against his, winking.

“You guys started without me!”

Jefferson’s injured tone made them both look around, and he shrugged out of his coat, stamping snow from his boots.  He was carrying a large padded envelope under his arm, and he shoved it onto the bar, brushing snowflakes from his dark hair.

“What’ll it be?” asked Dorothy.  “Gold’s drowning his sorrows, and we’re all pitching in.”

Jefferson’s mouth fell open.

“She said _no_?”

“She didn’t say anything,” said Gold, in a wry tone.  “I never got the chance to ask.”

“She was talking to some guy,” put in Dorothy.  “And this moron here assumes they’re bumping uglies three times a night, without actually _asking_ her about it.  Hence the drowning of the sorrows.”

“I’m not drowning my sorrows,” muttered Gold.

“Sure you’re not,” she said, with a sniff.  “You’re pretty much crying into your whisky thinking she might have the hots for someone else, but you absolutely have no feelings for her whatsoever, nope.”

“I didn’t say I had no feelings for her,” he said.  “I - I just meant that it doesn’t matter.”

“I never heard of her having a boyfriend,” said Jefferson.  “Where the hell did this come from?”

“I bloody well saw them, that’s what!” snapped Gold.  “Do you people think I just go around creating painful scenarios in my head for fun?”

“Yes,” they said, in unison, and he scowled, turning back to his whisky.

“Look,” said Jefferson patiently.  “I’m willing to bet she’s not seeing this mystery guy.  If she was, why wouldn’t she mention it?”

Gold didn’t have an answer for that, and Jefferson rolled his eyes.

“She was staying at your house for days,” he added.  “Did she mention a boyfriend to you then? Or call him? Even once?”

_She didn’t.  She didn’t call anyone except her father._

“He was abroad,” he said.  “Just got back in the country.”

“But did she _mention_ him?”

Gold was silent, and Dorothy sighed.

“You need to say something to her,” she said.  “Forget about this not-boyfriend, and just tell her how you feel. Life’s crappy enough without ignoring the few opportunities for love that come along.”

“I’m not—”

Dorothy slammed down her glass and grabbed at the napkin holder, waving it at him threateningly.

“I swear by all that’s holy if you tell me you’re not in love one more time, I will take this napkin holder and shove it up your oblivious ass!” she snapped.  “With no lube!”

Gold burst out laughing, followed by Jefferson, and after a moment she joined in, putting down her weapon of choice.

“I’m serious,” she said, when they had stopped chuckling.  “You like her. She likes you—”

“She likes everyone,” said Gold wearily.  “That’s who she is.”

“What did I say about the napkin holder, hmm?”

Gold sighed, slumping a little on the bar, and Dorothy turned to Jefferson, fishing a twenty-dollar bill from her pocket.

“Get yourself a drink,” she said.  “And get him another one. I’m gonna go see what I can find out about this alleged boyfriend.”

“You don’t even know where they’ll be,” grumbled Gold, feeling like a moody teenager and hating himself for it.

“Well, they’re not here,” said Dorothy patiently.  “So they’re obviously at the Rabbit Hole, right?”

“Or back at her place, picking up where they left off,” said Jefferson helpfully, and Dorothy smacked his shoulder.

“Not.  Helping.”

“Look,” sighed Gold, sitting up.  “I appreciate you two trying to cheer me up, but this is ridiculous.  Leave Belle to have some time with her - well, whatever he is. Just bloody well have a drink with me, would you?”

“Jefferson can be you drinking buddy for the next twenty minutes,” said Dorothy.  “I’ll be back. Mine’s a vodka tonic. Keep my seat warm, okay?”

With that she was gone, and Jefferson slid into her seat, beaming at Gold.

“So,” he said.  “What are we drinking?”

* * *

Belle took a slurp of her drink, setting it back on the table and grinning at Will.  He was very tanned, his hair shorter than ever. A little thinner than he had been when she last saw him, but he looked happy, which was all she cared about.

“You’re looking well,” he said, echoing her thoughts.  “Small town life must agree with you.”

“It - has its moments,” she admitted.  “What about you? Still teaching?”

“Yeah, I’m loving it,” he said enthusiastically.  “Going back in the New Year. There’s a great little community of us now, and the local people are so welcoming.  You should come out and visit sometime.”

Belle sighed.

“God, I’d love to,” she said reluctantly.  “No bloody chance at the moment. I’m trying to save up for a place of my own.”

He made a noise that suggested he knew exactly how it was to need more cash, and picked up his glass.

“Come on then, Belle,” he said.  “Drink up, we’re celebrating.”

Belle shot him a wry glance, and clinked her glass against his before taking a drink.

“There,” she said.  “Now d’you want to tell me _what_ we’re celebrating?  I mean other than you turning up out of the blue right before Christmas after you’ve been radio silent for months?  I know you, you have something to tell me. Right?”

He sent her a lopsided grin, which made her even more convinced he had something to tell her.

“Yeah, sorry about being a crappy penpal,” he said.  “Life kind of got in the way. I can only stay tonight, as well.  Got a bus to catch in the morning.”

“Well, I’d offer you a bed, but you know how Dad is,” said Belle, with a roll of her eyes.  “We never did set up the guest bedroom, and it’s full of all his fishing crap.”

“No need, I got a room at that bed and breakfast,” he said, taking a slurp of his beer.  “Flew into New York yesterday, and figured I’d stop by on the way to Toronto, see how you were doing.”

“And?” she teased, and he grinned.

“Nothing gets past you, does it?” he remarked, his eyes glinting.  “Okay, I wanted you to be the first to know. I’ve - I’ve met someone.   _The_ one.  The love of my life.”

Belle’s eyes widened, and she almost bounced in her seat.

“That’s wonderful!” she said.  “Is this the reason for the trip to Toronto?”

He nodded, looking almost shy as he turned his glass between his fingers.

“She’s asked me home to meet the family,” he said.  “Her name’s Anastasia. Ana. She’s - God, Belle, she’s everything!”

Belle couldn’t seem to stop smiling.  She reached out to hug him, squeezing him tightly, and Will squeezed back.

“I’m so happy for you,” she said, her voice muffled a little by his scarf.  “I can’t wait to meet her.”

“Well, that’s partly the reason for my visit,” he said.  “I - uh - I asked her to marry me. Wondered if you’d come to the wedding.  It’ll be in Toronto, so not far to travel.”

Belle sat back with a squeal of delight, clapping her hands.

“Oh my God!  Of course!” she said.  “When’s the wedding?”

“Hopefully next September,” he said.  “We haven’t told her family yet. Belle, I was such a bloody idiot when I asked her, I didn’t even have a ring!  We were walking along the beach at midnight the day before she flew home, and the stars were out, and it was perfect, and I just kind of blurted it out.  Luckily she said yes.”

“Lucky for you indeed,” said Belle, amused.  “So when are you getting a ring?”

“Oh, I got one,” he said hastily.  “She’d been saying how pretty it was, so I hope she’ll like it.  Here, let me show you. You can give me a woman’s opinion.”

He reached into the inside pocket of his coat, bringing out a little box, and opened it up to reveal a white gold ring set with a ruby and diamond cluster.  Belle took the box, looking it over and smiling with delight as the light sparkled on the cut stones.

“It’s beautiful,” she said warmly.  “I’m sure she’ll love it. I’m so happy for you, I truly am.  And I can’t wait to meet your bride-to-be.”

He smiled, his eyes gong soft, a far-away look in them.  A look of contentment, of happiness. He had found the love of his life, and was loved in return.  She found that she envied him.

* * *

Dorothy shoved her hands in her pockets, tucking her chin into her scarf as she hurried along the street.  The Rabbit Hole wasn’t far, and she soon ducked in through the doorway with a sigh of relief, warmth flooding over her.  She didn’t bother taking off her coat; if Belle was there, it wouldn’t take her long to get the information she was after.

She spied Belle almost immediately, seated at a table in the corner with a young man sitting across from her. The young man had soulful eyes and a ready smile, with close-cropped hair. They were talking, their heads close together, but Dorothy couldn’t hear a thing over the sound of the music in the bar.  They seemed to get along very well, but she couldn’t see that the two of them were exhibiting any signs of being a couple. Just two friends having a drink, as far as she could tell. She was about to wander over to say hi, when Belle reached over to hug the man.  He hugged her back, eyes closed and a wide grin on his face, then sat back and said something. Belle let out a squeal and clapped her hands, and the man’s grin broadened as he reached into the pocket of his coat and pulled out a ring box.

Dorothy pursed her lips.  That was definitely an engagement ring.  Belle had taken the ring and was looking it over, talking excitedly.   _She can’t be getting engaged to someone when she’s never mentioned him.  That’s ridiculous._

She waited to see if the ring was going on Belle’s finger, but the box was closed, the young man put it back in his pocket, and they clinked glasses.  Dorothy nodded to herself. No kisses. Nothing to suggest the guy was anything other than a friend. Probably that ex that Belle had mentioned in the Rabbit Hole, the one who had seemed too much like a brother for her to want to kiss.  Whoever the engagement ring was for, it wasn’t Belle.

“Don’t they look happy?”

Zelena’s voice made her jump, and Dorothy turned with a scowl as the other woman sidled up next to her, a drink in one hand and a smirk on her face.

“They look like two friends enjoying a drink,” she said.  “He’s probably that ex she talked about. The one that was just a friend.”

“They look like more than just friends to me,” said Zelena snidely.  “I’d say they look perfect for each other.”

“Yeah, well, given that you’d interpret someone telling you go jump in a lake as a come-on, I think your ability to read people is kind of crap,” said Dorothy dryly.  “What are you doing here, anyway? You decided to stalk Belle now? Given up on creeping out Gold?”

“It’s a free country,” said Zelena stiffly.  “I might ask you the same question. Why are you lurking in here and not down at the diner mooning over that slutty waitress like usual?”

Dorothy felt her fists clench, and told herself to calm down.

“You know, you’re right,” she said.  “Gold was about to buy me a drink, so I should really get back there.  Not like I want to hang out with you, things haven’t gotten _that_ desperate.”

Zelena scowled, nostrils flaring, but she tried to cover it with a smile.

“Suit yourself,” she said airily.  “Perhaps I’ll head down to Granny’s myself, help Dr Gold down some whisky.”

“Be prepared for him to leave as soon as you get there, then.”

“I’d go and say hello to Belle,” added Zelena, “but she looks rather busy, don’t you think?”

Dorothy raised her chin.

“Only one way to find out,” she announced.

She strode over to Belle’s table, causing Belle to look up with an expression of surprise, which became a warm smile.

“Dorothy!” she said.  “Hey! D’you want a drink?”

“Nah,” said Dorothy bluntly.  “I’m helping a stupid friend drown his sorrows at Granny’s, and I really need to get back there before his brain implodes from all the over-analysing he’s doing.”

“I—”  Belle looked confused.  “Oh. Okay.”

“Hi,” said the young man, and Belle’s eyes widened.

“Oh!  Sorry!  Dorothy, this is Will.  He’s a good friend of mine.  Will, this is Dorothy. She works at the hospital as a nurse.”

“Pleased to meet you, Will,” said Dorothy.  “Any _good friend_ of Belle’s is a friend of mine.”

She gave Zelena a meaningful look over her shoulder, and Zelena scowled.  Dorothy turned back to face Belle and Will.

“So…”  She gestured between them.  “You guys aren’t dating, then?”

“Oh, God no!” said Belle, with a chuckle.  “No, we’re just friends.”

“I’m sort of ninety percent engaged to someone else,” added Will, and Dorothy grinned.

“Congratulations,” she said.  “Just thought I’d check. People tend to jump to conclusions in this town.”

She glared at Zelena again, who had developed an interest in the contents of her drink.

“Okay, well - I guess I’ll see you at work,” said Dorothy breezily.  “Nice meeting you, Will.”

She shot Zelena a withering look as she passed, receiving a glare in return, and left the Rabbit Hole feeling somewhat lighter of heart.  Belle was a free agent. Now all she had to do was get Gold to ask her out. Piece of cake.


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: 26 "Whisky is a perfectly acceptable alternative to turkey"

Gold was beginning to wish he hadn’t agreed to come out for a drink.  Granny’s bar had been reasonably quiet when he and Dorothy had arrived, but now the dinner service was in full swing, and the raucous laughter and clatter of cutlery against plates was making him flinch.  Jefferson suggested that they get a booth, which cut a little of the noise, and ordered burgers and fries for the two of them, slapping the large padded envelope he had brought on the table next to him. Gold wasn’t hungry, but he didn’t say anything about the burger, figuring that Jefferson wouldn’t listen, and Dorothy would probably eat it if no one else did.

He wished that he could stop stressing out over what she might find out; he told himself that it was likely that Belle both had a boyfriend and was happy with him.  After all, who would ever treat her poorly, if they were lucky enough to be with her? Her boyfriend would be intelligent and funny and outgoing, easily making friends and with a good career.  He was probably the outdoors type, which was why he looked tanned. The two of them no doubt went hiking or skiing together. She would have met him at college, and they would go on to get married and settle in a pretty little suburban house and have three kids who they would take upcountry at the weekends.  She’d be happy.

Jefferson was rattling on about some new procedure he’d been reading about, but Gold was only listening with half an ear as he constructed the perfect life for Belle inside his head.  Eventually Jefferson sighed, clicking his fingers in front of Gold’s eyes and making him jump.

“You’re not even listening, are you?” he said, sounding both irritated and amused.

“Sorry,” said Gold, and Jefferson shook his head.

“Fine, I’ll stop with the work talk,” he said.  “Thought it might pull you out of yourself for awhile.  You done with that drink?”

Gold nodded, pushing his glass across the table and reaching into his pocket for some cash.

“Next round’s on me.”

“Fine, but you’d better eat something when the food gets here,” warned Jefferson.  “I’m not carrying you home, okay?”

“Don’t fuss,” sighed Gold.

“Yeah, you can say that, but I still remember Glinda’s birthday party.  I’m not doing duets with you when you’re drunk: you can’t hold a high note and it cramps my karaoke style.”

Gold chuckled.

“I promise to pace myself,” he said.  “Are you working Christmas Day?”

“Nah, Whale said he’d cover,” said Jefferson.  “I covered last year, and it’s nice to spend the whole day with Grace.  You could always come over, you know.  Have Christmas dinner.”

“I’m working,” said Gold.

“After your shift, then,” said Jefferson.  “I don’t like thinking of you alone with a bottle of whisky on Christmas Day.”

“Whisky is a perfectly acceptable alternative to turkey,” said Gold absently.

“As a doctor I can assure you that isn’t the case.”

“Well, maybe I’ll come over for a drink, then,” he said, sitting back.  “It’ll probably be late, though.”

“There’ll be plenty of leftovers, don’t worry.”

“Thank you,” said Gold, and meant it.  “I suppose you’re off work on New Year’s Eve, too?”

“I’m gonna be in this place, waiting to see out the year with a bang,” confirmed Jefferson.  “You working?”

“As always.”

“Next year you should let someone else take over for once.”

“You volunteering?” asked Gold, with a grin, and Jefferson pulled a face.

“Oh, God no!”

“Thought not.”

The diner door opened with a blast of cold air, and they both looked around as Dorothy hurried over, shrugging out of her coat and pulling her hat from her head.

“Right,” she said briskly, fixing Gold with a beady eye.  “It’s as I thought. You’re a fucking moron and the guy she’s with is just a friend.  Engaged to someone else, as it happens. So would you pull your pretty head out of your ass and ask the poor girl out before she dies of old age?”

Gold felt his heart clench, but he tried to keep his emotions in check, reaching for his glass before realising it was empty and letting his fingertips dance awkwardly on the table top.  He licked his lips.

“She’s - she’s single?” he asked, and Dorothy rolled her eyes.

“I’d like to ask what gave you the impression that she wasn’t, but we all know low self-esteem’s a fucking drag, so just trust me on this one, okay?  She’s single.  Very single and very in love with you and very eager to say yes if you just fucking _ask_ her.”

“Right,” he said, his voice echoing strangely in his head.  “Right. Okay. I - I’ll give it some thought.”

“I swear by all the gods...” she sighed, sinking into the seat opposite.  “Fine. I’ve done my bit, it’s up to you now, you big dork. Is that my drink?”

“I ordered a couple of burgers, as well,” said Jefferson.

“Good, I’m starving.”

She took a slurp of her drink, and Jefferson waved a hand to get Ruby’s attention.  She blushed a little as she came over, and Dorothy became very interested in her drink.  Gold rolled his eyes.

“Can we get another round?” asked Jefferson.  “And maybe an extra portion of fries?”

“Sure thing!” chirped Ruby.

She jotted down the order before trotting off, and Gold eyed Dorothy.

“You know, for someone who talks a lot of shit to me about asking people out, you’re really no better,” he said, and she frowned.

“Shut up.  I’m - preparing myself.”

“To do what?” asked Jefferson.  “Perfect the art of telepathy and ask her out that way?”

“Don’t you start on me,” she said, wagging a finger.  “I don’t see you dating anyone.”

He shrugged at that.

“Too busy being a dad,” he said.  “If Grace suddenly turns around and decides she wants another parent, I’ll be back on the market.  Besides, I haven’t had anything more serious than a one-nighter in years, and I’m way too pretty to get hurt.”

“Why am I taking relationship advice from you two idiots?” remarked Gold.

“Because we care,” said Dorothy.  “And we want to see you coming into work happy.”

“With that post-coital glow I just know Belle wants to give you,” added Jefferson.  “And that you’re just _dying_ to give her.”

Gold frowned at him.

“I’m stressing out enough about my Secret Santa present, without worrying about something that will probably never happen, thank you.”

“Well, you could always give her one of these,” announced Jefferson, patting the padded envelope in front of him.

“What’s in there?”

“Our calendars, what do you think?”  Jefferson beamed as Gold groaned. “I got some advance copies.  They’re shipping the rest next week. I’m on the front cover! Take a look!”

He opened up the envelope, sliding out three of the calendars and handing them over.  Jefferson’s picture graced the front, a pose which had him looking off into the distance as he prepared a syringe, one knee up on the edge of a gurney, the leg bent enough that it hid his genitals.  His belly was pulled taut, his muscles well-defined, and Gold could understand why he’d made the cover.

“Well, you look good,” he admitted.  “Perhaps they didn’t bother adding my picture in.  No doubt it would spoil the aesthetic.”

“ _Au contraire_ , Dr December,” said Jefferson.  “You look awesome.”

Gold began flipping through the calendar, grinning as he saw Miss Blanchard, photographed with a jug of water obscuring one breast and a small pot plant hiding the other, a thoughtful expression on her face.  Next was Graham, toned and perfect, one hand on the frame of a saline drip and another holding a patient’s chart in front of his groin. Dorothy’s picture had her with her back to the camera, looking back over her shoulder with a glint in her eye and a grin on her face as she held up a blood pressure cuff.

“I look hella cute,” she observed.

“Okay, here are your dri— oh!”  Ruby’s eyes went wide as she saw the calendar, and she blushed fiercely, pushing the tray of drinks onto the table.  “Um - your order.”

“Thanks,” said Gold, and smiled at her.  “Charity calendars for the hospital, Miss Lucas.  Perhaps you’d like to buy one.”

“I - uh - sure,” she said lamely.  “I’d love to. It’s - it’s for a good cause, right?”

“Nurse Gale is looking particularly fine, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Yeah,” she said, blushing harder as Dorothy buried her head in the calendar.  “I’ll - um - just get your food.”

She rushed off quickly, dark hair swishing.

“I hate you,” said Dorothy, from behind the calendar.

“No you don’t.”

Gold turned the page, grinning as he saw Leroy with nothing but his security guard’s hat protecting his modesty.  The man was seriously hairy. He turned the page again, revealing the month of May, and his heart skipped a beat. The picture was taken from above, and Belle was lying on the hospital gurney on her front, resting on her elbows.  She was completely naked, her feet kicked up behind her and crossed at the ankles. Dark curls tumbled over her pale shoulders, and there was a medical textbook open in front of her, a copy of _Gray’s Anatomy._ She was looking up at the camera through thick dark lashes, smiling slightly, a hint of promise in her expression, and he swallowed hard as his gaze travelled up the page, along the groove of her spine and over the perfect curves of her buttocks.  The sight of her made his heart thump.

“I’m guessing it’s gonna be May at your place for the rest of the year,” observed Dorothy snidely, and he sucked in a breath, flipping the page and seeing nothing.

“Holy crap, Gold, where have you been hiding that ass?” asked Jefferson.

Gold sighed, flipping through the rest of the calendar until he reached December.  Looking the picture over critically, he supposed it could have been worse.  He was standing with his back to the camera, only his nose and the edge of one cheekbone visible as he studied the chart in his hand, the other grasping the handle of his cane.  He supposed his butt wasn’t bad, considering.  It wasn’t exactly something he had ever looked at.

“I don’t say this often, but that is one biteable butt,” added Jefferson.  “Damn those loose scrubs!”

“For fuck’s sake,” he muttered, as Dorothy and Jefferson chuckled.

“Just think, pretty soon everyone in Storybrooke’s gonna see that ass,” said Dorothy.  “Pretty sure you’ll get some new admirers. Zelena’s probably gonna paper her walls with Dr December.”

“Thanks, that’s not at all terrifying.”

“Here are your burgers, and one extra fries,” announced Ruby, sliding plates onto the table.  “Oh, nice ass, Dr Gold.”

Gold frowned as Dorothy and Jefferson snickered.

“Told you,” said Dorothy.

“Miss Lucas, are you single?” asked Gold suddenly, and Ruby looked confused.

“I - uh - yeah, why?”

“Oh good,” he said lightly.  “Because Dorothy here is also single and would very much like to buy you a drink.  In fact why don’t I buy you _both_ a drink and you can go and sit in a quiet corner somewhere and get to know each other?  There’s some mistletoe over by the bar, I believe it’s an excellent ice-breaker when people want to kiss each other.”

Ruby’s mouth had fallen open a little and a shade of red was spreading up her cheeks.  Dorothy rounded on Gold with a look of fury in her eyes.

“Oh, so you can’t say ‘hi’ to Belle without freaking out like a big wuss, but the chance to embarrass _me_ and all of a sudden you can’t stop flapping your mouth?”

“Oh my God, does he like _Belle_?” asked Ruby, wide-eyed.

“It’s - it’s not like that…” began Gold.

“Yes it is,” said Jefferson and Dorothy, and Ruby sighed in relief.

“Thank God, I was ready to ask you out for her myself,” she said.  “She likes you, okay? More than likes you, if you must know. Just ask her out and stop being a dork about it.”

She wandered off, still blushing, and Gold glared at her back.

“There,” said Dorothy, sounding satisfied.  “You heard the woman.”

“Fine!” he snapped.  “I’ll do it, if only to shut you up!”

“Never gonna happen, but okay.”

Gold flipped the calendar closed, cutting off the view of his rear end and reaching for his drink.  He was going to do it. He was going to ask her out. It was time.

“So it’s a no on the Secret Santa present?” asked Jefferson.  “Pity, that would have been easy.”

“She’ll already have ordered one,” he said grumpily.  “I need to get her something more - her. Unique.”

“Well, that’s easy,” said Jefferson.  “Just think about what she likes, and what would make her happy.  Then try and condense that into something that costs around thirty bucks.  Piece of cake.”

“Easy for you to say,” said Gold absently, and tapped his fingers on the table top.   _Something that would make her happy.  I wonder…_

A thought occurred to him, and he sat up straight as it took form.  It might take some effort, and it wouldn’t technically cost anything beyond the calling-in of a favour, but if he could make it work, it would be perfect. He grinned as he thought about it, reaching out for one of the fries. Perhaps the festive season wouldn’t be so bad after all.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "I'm sorry, that came out wrong"

The next day dawned cold, crisp and bright, and Gold decided to walk into town to arrange the Secret Santa present for Belle.  He smiled a little as he walked; he had two days off work, and much to his surprise was looking forward to it. Usually he hated being away from the hospital, but concentrating on a gift for Belle was a pleasant distraction.  The gifts weren’t due to be handed out until Christmas Eve, and he was hoping that he would have the time to make the arrangements that he wanted by then.

Now that he had decided he would definitely be asking her to go out, he felt a little calmer.  Initially the realisation that he had strong feelings for her was unexpected and almost terrifying, but he had come to terms with the fact that since he had met her, his life had changed dramatically, and would never be the same again. He was okay with that.

There was still the issue of whether she would say yes, but Ruby’s words had given him encouragement, and so he decided to ask her when they were next on shift together.  Dinner.  He would ask her out for dinner.  Or possibly coffee, but at Granny’s, not at the cafeteria.  Coffee was enough to start with.  But then would she just think he was being friendly, rather than asking her out romantically?  Dinner.  It would have to be dinner. He wouldn’t bother with the flowers this time, though.  That seemed like tempting fate.  If she said yes, he could bring her flowers on the date.

He took his time with the walk as he pondered his next move, enjoying the chirps and squawks of the few birds that saw out the winter in Maine, and nodding to the people that passed him.  His feet led him to the Town Hall, and he gave his name at the front desk before being asked to go on through to the Mayor’s office.

Regina Mills was dark-haired and lovely, the picture of stylish efficiency in her tailored suit and designer shoes. He had long admired her taste, and the two of them had a reasonably amicable relationship, developed over several years of him patching up her son Henry, who had a tendency to be accident-prone.  She looked up from behind her desk, setting down her pen and giving him a brief, red-lipped smile.

“Madam Mayor,” he said pleasantly.  “Compliments of the season. You’re looking very well.”

“Dr Gold,” she said.  “Please tell me my son hasn’t been in need of your care again.”

“Not this week,” he said.  “Although you may want to consider dressing the boy in bubble-wrap.”

Regina sniffed.

“Believe me, Emma and I have already had this conversation,” she said dryly.  “What can I do for you?”

Gold smiled.

“Do you remember when I put you in touch with that adoption agency in Boston?” he said.  “And when I promised to get a friend of mine to consider your application before anyone else’s?  I believe that resulted in you adopting Henry. And later meeting the love of your life.”

“Yes,” said Regina suspiciously.  “I told you I _owed you one_ , as I recall.”

“Ah.”  His grin widened.  “You _do_ remember.”

Regina rolled her eyes.

“Okay,” she sighed.  “What do you want?”

“Oh, it’s not for me as such,” he said.  “It’s something the whole town would thank you for.  It would create a lot of goodwill this festive season.  And with it being election year soon I just thought—”

“Yes, yes!” she snapped.  “You’ve made your point. I’m feeling in a generous mood, so just tell me what it is you want and I’ll see what I can do.”

Gold smiled, and stepped closer to the desk.  Perhaps this would be easier than he thought.

* * *

Belle hurried to the locker room, sighing as she changed her shoes for heavy boots and pulled on her coat. She smiled at Dorothy, coming on shift as she was leaving, and held up the copy of the hospital calendar she had been given.  The contents had been a pleasant surprise, although she had to admit that she'd spent far longer staring at the month of December than was healthy.

“The moment of truth, huh?” she said.  “I think we look pretty good. Jefferson says they’re selling like hot cakes.  He’s had requests for orders from all over the country!”

“Yeah, I think those friends of his gave some free publicity,” said Dorothy, with a grin.  “Suits me: his other fundraising option was a bake sale, and I’m not that great a cook.”

“Oh, I think that’s still going ahead,” said Belle.  “After the New Year, though.”

“In that case I’ll limit my participation to buying and eating other people’s creations,” she said.  “Showing my ass seems to be way less painless. For all concerned.”

Belle giggled, pulling a hat down over her hair.

“I’m hoping the townsfolk are gonna be reasonably discreet,” she said.  “I don’t care if some guy I never heard of wants to put the calendar on his wall, but I’m not sure my dad needs to know about his daughter taking her clothes off for charity.”

“It’s for a good cause,” said Dorothy dismissively.  “Hey, did you get your Secret Santa gift yet? You know we’re giving them out tomorrow, right?”

Belle sighed.

“Yeah,” she said morosely.  “I’m not sure I got the right thing.  It’s been a nightmare trying to think of something that’s meaningful and yet doesn’t cost more than thirty bucks.”

“It’s Secret Santa,” said Dorothy patiently.  “It doesn’t have to be meaningful.”

Belle shrugged, and Dorothy pursed her lips as she grabbed a pair of clean scrubs.

“Hey, did you see Gold today?”

“No, he’s not working until tomorrow,” said Belle.  “Why?”

“Oh, no reason.  Just asking. Is Whale in, then?”

“Whale’s there now, Jefferson’s in later,” confirmed Belle, grabbing her purse and closing her locker.  “See you tomorrow?”

“Count on it.”

She headed out, shivering as she stepped into the bitter wind, and hurried home.  Coloured lights twinkled from the houses she passed, lifting her spirits as she shuffled through the snow, but when she reached the small house that she shared with her father, it was dark except for a single light in the lounge.  Belle’s mouth flattened. He hadn’t switched the Christmas tree lights on. Again. Feeling her festive spirit drain away, she opened the door and went inside.

“It’s only me!” she called, and heard a grunt from the lounge over the sound of the TV.

Rolling her eyes, she struggled out of her coat and hat and tugged off her boots, exchanging them for soft sheepskin booties and heading to the kitchen.  Her father clearly hadn’t started anything for dinner, and Belle huffed in exasperation.   _Guess I’m cooking again, then._ One glance in the fridge made her frown.  Cans of beer filled one of the shelves, the remainder being taken up by eggs, bacon and a block of cheese.  She sighed to herself and shut the door,wandering through to the lounge. Moe was slumped in his usual chair with a beer can resting on his belly, eyes fixed on the TV screen.  Belle put her hands on her hips.

“I thought you were buying something for dinner,” she said, and he glanced around.

“You said you would.”

“No, I said I couldn’t because I was working,” she snapped.  “The flower shop is right next to the store! I notice you bought beer, so you managed that.”

“Don’t be a bloody nag,” he groused.  “Just order a pizza or something.”

“We had pizza last night.”

“So we’ll have it again!” he said impatiently, and gestured at the TV.  “I’m trying to watch this! Just order a damn pizza and get me another beer!”

Huffing in exasperation, Belle stomped through to the kitchen again. _I really, REALLY need to get my own place!_

* * *

The next day she was up before Moe as usual, but still later than she would have liked, so she had to rush to cook their breakfast.  He stomped into the kitchen with a bleary look in his eyes, nodding to her as she pushed eggs and bacon towards him.

“I’m working this afternoon, so could you pick up the turkey and the things for Christmas dinner?” she said, when they were almost done.  “Everything’s ordered and paid for, you just need to collect it from the store.”

“Alright.”  Moe looked at her, chewing his bacon.  “What time are you back tonight?”

“Oh, not until eight or so,” she said.  “Can you see to yourself until then?”

“Guess I’ll have to,” he said sourly.  “I’ll go to Granny’s, have a drink with the guys.”

“Okay.”

Inwardly she heaved a sigh of relief.  It meant that he probably wouldn’t be home until late, and she could have an evening of relative peace and quiet preparing the Christmas dinner.  Moe shoved the last bit of bacon into his mouth, following it with a swallow of coffee and pushing away his plate.

“Better get to the shop,” he said, shoving back his chair.  “I’ll see you later, love.”

He sauntered off to pull on his boots and coat, and Belle frowned at the dirty dishes.   _Guess I’m doing those, huh?_

She took a shower once she was done with cleaning up, brushing her clean hair until it shone and putting on a dark green dress that showed off her pale skin.  The addition of some red lipstick made her feel almost festive as she swirled the skirt in front of the mirror, and she smiled to herself. Her gift for the Secret Santa exchange was wrapped, and she looked it over, chewing her lip before putting it in her bag.  She hadn’t been sure whether it was an appropriate gift, but there wasn’t anything else she could think of that wasn’t hopelessly generic.

It was a sunny day, if cold, and she turned her face up to feel what warmth the sun could send as she made her way to the hospital along the main road out of town.  Her phone ringing made her stop, and she dug in her bag, frowning a little as she saw the number of the flower shop flash up.

“Belle?” barked her father, before she had even had time to answer.  “What the bloody hell do you think you’re playing at?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, bewildered.

“Don’t you bloody play coy with me, my girl!” he snapped.  “What do you think I’m talking about? Were you planning on telling me you’d decided to take your clothes off for money?”

Belle groaned. _The calendar.  Great. Well, I guess it was too good to last._

“It’s for charity,” she said shortly.  “And it’s not like I did a bloody Playboy centrefold!  I think it’s very tasteful.”

“Tasteful my arse!  I just had to put up with bloody Miss Ginger holding it up and telling me this is what happens when a daughter has no mother to keep her on the straight and narrow!”

“The day I care about what Miss Ginger thinks of me it’ll be snowing in hell,” said Belle tartly.  “That woman could find fault with a bloody saint!”

“Why didn’t you damn well tell me you were doing this?” he demanded.

“Because I’m an adult, and it’s my body and I’ll do what I damn well please with it!” she returned hotly.  “Why do you even care? There are eleven other people in that calendar and I don’t see you complaining about them!”

“None of them are _my daughter_!”

“I posed for a nice picture of my butt so the hospital could save towards a CAT scan,” she said, exasperated. “Somehow I think your reputation will survive. I’ll see you later.  Don’t forget to pick up the food, okay?”

“Don’t you think I have enough to do in this shop?” he snapped.  “I have to cope in this place alone and you want me to run bloody errands for you?  What did your last slave die of?”

“If you want a Christmas dinner tomorrow, you’ll have to pick up the bloody turkey!” she retorted.  “I can’t be in two places at once!  Alternatively we’ll just eat bacon and bloody eggs all day and you can edge closer to that heart attack the doctors keep warning you about!  Your choice!”

She didn’t wait for his response, hanging up with a huff of indignation and striding off towards the hospital entrance.   _Bloody man!_

* * *

Gold was able to collect Belle’s Secret Santa gift on the morning of Christmas Eve, and had had to make a detour back home to wrap it before heading to the hospital for his shift that afternoon.  He had bought a little something extra to go with it, which he thought was fitting, and he placed everything in a narrow box and wrapped it up with shining green paper, tied with gold ribbon and a single tag with _Merry Christmas Belle x_ written on it.  He had decided, after much deliberation, that he would ask her out before the gifts were exchanged; he didn’t want her to feel obliged to say yes, after all.  There was no one in the break room when he entered, and he set the box with the other gifts already under the small tree, slipping out and heading for the ward to start his rounds.

He was mentally running over what he wanted to say to Belle in his head, the words repeating in a loop of what sounded to him like something forced and awkward.   _Belle, we’ve been friends for awhile now, and I’d like to take the next step, if you’re willing.  I wondered if you might consider having dinner with me on Friday evening._ He said it over and over in his head, in the hope that it would sound natural when he managed to verbalise it.

He was so busy repeating it to himself like a mantra that he barely noticed the object of his desire approaching, and almost bumped into her.  Belle was carrying a jug of water in one hand, and it sloshed alarmingly. She put her hand on his forearm with a giggle, blue eyes sparkling.

“Whoa there!” she said.  “Are you okay? You looked as though you were miles away.”

Gold smiled at her a little tremulously, feeling as though his tongue had cleaved to the roof of his mouth.  His script, so easy to repeat in his mind mere seconds ago, appeared to have evaporated into the ether, and he could only stare at her.

“Belle,” he said.  “Uh - hi.”   _Great.  Great start.  I suppose at least you got her bloody name right, you loser._

“Hi!” she said brightly.  “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m - I’m very well,” he said, wanting to punch himself in the face with something.  “You?”

“Good!” she said.  “I saw the calendar, by the way.  I thought the pictures turned out great, what about you?”

“I - yes.”  He tried to ignore the image of Belle that had just pushed its way into his head.  “Yes, I thought you looked - okay.”   _Okay?_ Okay _, you moron?  She’s a fucking goddess, what is_ wrong _with you?  Okay, my sainted backside..._

Belle looked as though he'd spat in her face, blinking rapidly.

“Right," she said thinly.  "Uh - thanks.  I guess."

"I'm - I'm sorry," he said, wishing he had just sent her a bloody letter or something.  "I'm sorry, that came out wrong."

"It's okay," she assured him.  "Really."

There was a moment of awkward silence, and Gold wanted the ground to open up and swallow him.  She glanced down at the jug of water in her hands.

"Right," she said again.  “Well, I was about to—”

"Of course," he said quickly.  “I won’t be a moment, it’s just - there was something I wanted to ask you.”

“What is it?”

He tried to grasp at the words he had carefully constructed in his mind, the right words with which to ask her out, but his brain had run off on gleeful tangents, eagerly pushing inappropriate suggestions at him.  She was gazing up at him with those wide blue eyes, and he was tempted to take the jug of water from her hands and empty it over his head.

“Right,” he said.  “Uh - Belle, you - you know we’ve been friends for awhile now...”

He trailed off, hesitating, and she tilted her head to the side a little, her brow furrowing with mild curiosity.

“And,” he managed.  “And I wanted - I mean I wondered - uh - no, I mean I’d like—”

“Belle!”

Astrid’s sharp voice cut him off, and he stood there opening and closing his mouth, momentarily mute.  Belle turned to face Astrid, who had almost sprinted down the corridor towards them.

“Oh, thank goodness!” she gasped breathlessly, skidding to a halt.  “It’s your dad! They found him collapsed in the shop!  Suspected heart attack!  They’re bringing him in now!”

Belle had clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide with shock and fear.

“Heart attack?” asked Gold, a medical emergency returning the gift of speech to his parched throat.  “I’ll come with you.”

“Dr Whale’s there,” said Astrid, shaking her head at him as she handed him the jug of water.  “I just came to get Belle.”

She put an arm around Belle, who shot him a brief, frightened look and allowed herself to be led away at a brisk pace.  He stared after them, holding the water jug in his hand and feeling helpless.

 _Well,_ said his subconscious, with an air of satisfaction that made him want to scream.   _You blew it._


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "Belle, those scrubs really bring out your eyes."
> 
> Anonymous prompted: "Belle, it's me, Stirling. Let's have sex"

Gold felt as though his feet were glued to the floor, but eventually he managed to start walking, and he put down the water jug on the nearest table and hurried to the emergency room as quickly as he could.  Belle’s father was being wheeled in on a gurney, his face ashen and his eyes closed. Gold watched as Whale began dealing with the situation, calm and efficient, and decided that he was only in the way. He turned on his heel and walked swiftly back to the long-term ward.  His mind was racing, but he shut out the clamouring thoughts and checked John Doe’s vitals, noting that there had been an odd fluctuation in brain activity. He frowned, glancing at the man in the bed, but he was as still as ever.

He was worried about Belle, and whether she would have to deal with the pain of losing the only family member left to her.  From what he had seen of Moe French, the man had been a coronary waiting to happen, but that wouldn’t make his passing any easier on her.  Perhaps the heart attack was mild, and would scare him enough to turn his life around. He hoped so, for Belle’s sake. Inwardly he cursed the man for his timing, but felt ashamed of himself for the uncharitable thought.  If he had asked Belle out when Dorothy first suggested it, he would already have his answer. For better or worse.

Irritated with himself, he kept busy by dealing with patients until six p.m., when the Secret Santa presents were due to be exchanged.  Whale had finally returned from the ICU, looking tired and stressed, and he nodded to Gold as they joined Jefferson by the tree in the break room.

“How’s Mr French?” asked Gold, and Whale’s mouth flattened.

“He’ll live, but he needs to take a serious look at his life and decide whether he wants to make it to sixty,” he said.  “He’s gonna need angioplasty, at the least, but he should be ready to go home in a few days. I’ll schedule the procedure for the New Year, and I’ve told him to rest up until then and cut way back on the drink and salty food.”

Gold nodded, and Whale ran a hand through his hair.

“Whether he’ll listen is another matter, of course.”

“You’ve done what you can,” said Gold, and Whale heaved a sigh of resignation that was all too familiar to him. Stubborn patients were frustrating.

“Belle says she’ll provide care for him during the day,” he added.  “She’s asked to move her shifts to later in the evenings, says she needs the money.  I said she’d have to clear it with Glinda, as we don’t usually have assistants working those hours, but I don’t see a problem with it.  There’s less work for an assistant to do at night, but we’re coming up to New Year’s Eve, and getting cover’s a bitch at the best of times.”

“Agreed,” said Gold, eyeing Dorothy as she stepped up to the tree with a grin on her face.  “How is she?”

“Upset,” said Whale.  “Tired. Worried. I told her to go home and get some rest.”

“Right.”  Gold eyed the present he had prepared for her, still in its place under the tree.  “Of course.”

“Okay, you guys, listen up!” announced Dorothy.  “I got a bunch of gifts waiting to find new homes, and I hope you all got into the spirit and no one revealed themselves to their giftee.  Merry Christmas everyone!”

She bent to the pile of gifts, and began handing them out, and the staff were momentarily absorbed in reading tags and tearing paper.

“Okay, who the hell thought it was funny to get me a _vibrator_?” demanded Zelena, and Whale almost choked with laughter as she held up a remarkably realistic, if large, pink silicone penis.

“Hey, that’s a _great_ gift!” protested Jefferson.  “Look, it says it has three settings! The gift that keeps on giving.  As long as you replace the batteries, of course.”

She shot him a withering look and stomped off, vibrator swinging from her hand, and Jefferson shrugged.

“No pleasing some people,” he whispered in Gold’s ear.  “Remind me to high-five Dorothy, would you? I’m guessing only she had the balls to do that.”

“Yeah, someone got me decent vodka!” crowed Dorothy, brandishing a bottle of Grey Goose.  “Santa, you rock! Whoever you are.”

“No drinking on the job!” called Jefferson, and she chuckled.

“Okay.”  She reached for another present.  “Dr Gold.”

Dorothy shoved a large, flat, rectangular gift at him, and he raised an eyebrow and took it, opening up shiny blue paper tied with gold ribbon.  For a moment he thought he had been given a picture, but when he got the paper off he could see that it was a photo frame, or more accurately a single frame of elegant, curved brass, containing a frame insert in dark brown with cutouts of various sizes.  In total it would hold nine separate photographs. A slip of paper was wedged in one corner, a single sentence in neat, flowing script. _To live in hearts we leave behind is not to die._

Gold swallowed hard, hands tightening on the frame.   _It’s her.  It’s Belle.  It has to be.  She bought me this, for Neal.  So I could see him, remember him.  So I could bring him out of that bloody nightstand drawer and into the light.  Perhaps it’s time._

“What d’you get?”

Jefferson’s voice made him close his eyes, and his hands tightened on the frame.

“Nice,” said Jefferson.  “Now you have somewhere to put all those pictures of your ass.  I’ll get Ursula to send the negatives.”

Gold gave him a look, and went to put the frame in his locker.  By the time he got back the Secret Santa gift exchange had ended, and the staff were dispersing.  Belle’s gift had disappeared from under the tree, and he felt a moment of panic.

“Hey,” said Dorothy, picking up the discarded paper and ribbons.  “Mary Margaret took Belle’s present. She’s gonna go visit as soon as Belle feels up to it.”

“Oh.”

He hadn’t expected to give her the present himself, of course, but he wished he could see her face when she opened it.  Dorothy gave him a look of understanding.

“Missed your chance, huh?” she said sympathetically, and Gold sighed.

“I was right in the middle of my big speech when she got the news,” he said heavily.  “Her father almost dying kind of took priority.”

“Yeah.”  Dorothy patted his arm.  “Look, you want to come for a drink after work?  It’s Christmas, after all.”

He was about to say no, but hesitated.

“Alright,” he said.  “One drink.”

“I’ll meet you out the front, okay?”

Gold nodded, going back to work and trying to put Belle from his mind.  Fortunately there was plenty to do, and the time passed quickly, so before too long he was changing out of his scrubs into his suit and pulling on his coat.  His mouth flattened as he checked the position of his tie in the mirror. He had hoped to be leaving work with a date with Belle agreed and arranged, and here he was, heading to Granny’s with Dorothy for a single miserable whisky before he went home.  Rolling his eyes, he told himself to stop moping. There was no way his evening could be worse than Belle’s after all.

Granny’s was busy, the townspeople crowding in for a late Christmas Eve drink before heading home, and Gold and Dorothy had to sit on one of the smaller tables rather than in their usual stools at the bar.  Ruby was dodging in and out of the crowds with trays of drinks, and smiled to them as she passed.

“Whisky and a vodka tonic, right?” she asked, as she went by, and Gold agreed.

Ruby was back more quickly than he thought possible, setting down their drinks with a smile, and as she spun away again with her pigtails bouncing, Dorothy was staring after her, chin on one hand and a somewhat dreamy expression in her eyes.

“There goes my future wife,” she sighed.  Gold chuckled.

“Have you actually exchanged more than two sentences with her yet?” he asked, and Dorothy frowned, stirring her vodka.

“Okay, you are absolutely the _last_ person who should be criticising me for taking my time on this.”

“Fair point,” acknowledged Gold, taking a sip of his whisky.  “Just kiss her, would you? Someone should get lucky this holiday and it’s certainly not gonna be me.”

Dorothy gave him a sympathetic look.

“Hey, at least you tried,” she said.  “Not your fault her old man has terrible timing.  There’ll be other chances.”

“I hope so,” he said.  “I don’t think it’s exactly fitting that I go over there when she’s caring for him and ask her, though.”

“Well, maybe not,” she agreed, and took a slurp of her drink.  “Give her a few days, for sure. I mean you’ve waited this long...”

“I was pretty much fucking up asking her anyway,” he added, “so maybe it’s best that I get another shot at it.”

“Oh, come on, how hard can it be?”

Gold snorted.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Just - just give her a compliment,” she said, gesturing with her drink.  “Like - ‘Belle, those scrubs really bring out your eyes’.”

“Hilarious,” he said dryly.  “She doesn’t wear scrubs.”

“Okay, so maybe something more direct,” she said, and made her voice deeper.  “Belle, it’s me, Stirling. Let’s have sex.”

“Oh, you’re a laugh a minute…”

She grinned, shoving him.

“Come on, I’m only teasing,” she said, and clinked her glass against his.  “Merry Christmas.”

“If you say so,” he said, but took a drink.

“Are you celebrating?” she asked, and he shook his head.

“No, I never do.  That’s not a bid for sympathy, by the way.  I just always work, and don’t have the energy to cook a special dinner for one by the time I get home.  Plus I’m not religious and have no family, so it seems pretty pointless.”

“Well,” she said, holding up her glass.  “Here’s to next year bringing us both a little more festive fun.”

He raised his own glass, and took a drink, watching Dorothy’s eyes follow Ruby as she passed again.

“Go on,” he said.  “Ask her out. There’s mistletoe.”

Dorothy hesitated, and took a gulp of her drink, a determined look squaring her jaw as she pushed back her chair.

“Okay,” she said firmly.  “I’m doing it.”

He watched her go, striding purposefully to where Ruby was clearing a table, and then standing a little awkwardly, bouncing no the toes of her boots, hands in the back pockets of her jeans as she spoke.  He couldn’t hear what was being said over the noise of the diner, but Ruby was smiling and blushing, and then so was Dorothy, and Ruby was nodding enthusiastically. It made him smile as Dorothy appeared to almost sag with relief, and the two women pulled out their phones, presumably to exchange numbers.  They were chatting animatedly, their heads close together, and Gold eyed the sprig of greenery above them.

“Mistletoe!” he called, and they both looked around, wide-eyed.

Dorothy shot him a look, but then Ruby tapped her on the shoulder to get her attention, and leaned in to press a kiss to her cheek before spinning away with her tray of dirty glasses.  Dorothy came back to the table, blushing fiercely, and Gold grinned at her as she sat down.

“There,” he said.  “Success.”

“Yeah,” she said.  “Look at me, I have a date with a hot girl.”

“It’s a Christmas miracle,” he remarked, and pulled a face as she whacked his arm.

“Now we just need one for you,” she said lightly.  “You’re gonna ask her, right?”

“I will,” he said.  “As soon as the time is right.”

“You better not mean Christmas 2032 when you say that.”

Gold couldn’t help grinning.

“I promise.”

“Good.”

Gold drained his glass, and pushed his glass across the table.

“I should probably go,” he said, standing up.  “You don’t mind, do you?”

“Course not,” she said, glancing to the bar.  “I don’t mind hanging out here for awhile.”

He nodded, smiling a little as he pulled on his coat, and she stood up, stretching up on her toes to kiss his cheek.

“Go home,” she said sincerely.  “I know damn well you’re covering tomorrow, and you should get some rest before you make yourself sick again.”

“Yes, boss,” he said dryly, and she grinned.

“Don’t you forget it,” she teased.  “Go on, loser, get out of here. And Merry Christmas.”

He bid her goodnight, tucking the photo frame under his arm and making his way out into the cold air.  It was time to retrieve the box of photographs of Neal that he had kept all these years. He was aware that he would be replaying his unsuccessful conversation with Belle over and over in his head, but at least he’d have something to concentrate on while he did it.

* * *

It had been the worst Christmas that Belle could remember.

She had slept poorly that first night, lying awake worrying about her father, about whether Dr Whale’s reassurances had been for nothing.  It had been a mild heart attack, but the first couple of days were the most crucial, he had said. It was possible that Moe could suffer another heart attack in that time, a more severe one.  She told herself that he was in the hospital and being monitored, which was certainly the best place for him, but it didn’t stop her worrying. Ruby and Mary Margaret had offered to come over, and Ruby had invited her for Christmas dinner, but she had declined.  She was poor company, and she didn’t want to bring them down. Besides, she had little appetite.

The Christmas gifts they had purchased for one another were still stacked under the tree, and she ignored them.  Moe hadn’t collected the groceries she had ordered before falling ill, and the store was closed by the time she left the hospital, so the fridge contained little more than eggs, bacon, cheese and cans of beer.  Her Christmas dinner was a bowl of chicken soup eaten with bread and butter before she headed out to the hospital, a single glass of wine her only concession to the holiday. She spent most of her time visiting her father or cleaning up the house ready for his arrival once discharged.  

Moe was finally told he could go home the day before New Year’s Eve, and was recovered enough to grumble about everything from the diet sheet Dr Whale had given him to the exercises he was supposed to be doing, to Belle’s refusal to stop at the store and buy him whisky.

“It’s New Year,” he said sulkily, as she helped him into the house.  “I can’t even have a drink?”

“You know what the doctor said.”  Belle shut the door behind him. “Do your exercises now, before you forget.”

Moe grumbled something about her being a tyrant, and shuffled through to the lounge to do push-ups against the wall.  He was breathless afterwards, flopping into his chair, and complained about the lunch she served him: vegetable and lentil soup with plain bread, and water instead of his usual soda.  Belle closed her eyes and reminded herself that she was a good person.

His illness made him tired, and so he slept more than usual, which meant that Belle could catch up on chores and prepare more healthy dishes for him.  She spent that first evening cooking and portioning up brown rice and stews filled with vegetables and pulses. He’d complain about it, but she didn’t care.

There was the flower shop to think of, too, and her own job.  Her father’s insurance covered his medical bills, but wouldn’t provide him with an income, and she couldn’t be in two places at once.  With a heavy heart, she decided to close up the shop for the period of his recovery. January was always a quiet time anyway, and he would be up and reasonably mobile in time for Valentine’s Day, assuming the angioplasty procedure went well. It would still mean that they would be struggling for rent, although cutting his booze bill would definitely help. She spent an evening working out a strict budget for the household, which was workable as long as she continued to get hours at the hospital.  New Year’s Eve would be her first day back at work since Moe’s heart attack had turned their world upside down.

She slept poorly that night, and made breakfast in something of a daze, taking Moe his tea and porridge with blueberries, which earned her a grunt and a curled lip.  His attitude was starting to get her down, but Mary Margaret had texted her to say that she and Ruby would be visiting, and she was looking forward to seeing some friendly faces.  The knock at the door as she was folding laundry made her smile.

“Hey!” chirped Ruby, when she answered.  “Merry belated Christmas! We’re taking over from Santa today and bringing you gifts.”

Belle couldn’t help smiling at them.  Mary Margaret was holding up a box with wrapped presents in it, beaming at Belle over the top.

“Come on into the kitchen,” said Belle.  “I’ll make hot chocolate, what do you say?”

She took the box from Mary Margaret, leading them away from the lounge, where the television was blaring.

“I’ll just say hi to your dad,” said Mary Margaret.

She returned as Belle was getting out the milk for the hot chocolate, eyebrows raised.

“Wow, he really doesn’t like the new regime, huh?” she remarked.

“I don’t care,” said Belle shortly.  “I told him this morning if he wants to die, that’s his own affair, but I’m not gonna help him do it.”

“Bad patients are the _worst_ ,” she said, with feeling, and took a seat next to Ruby.

“Come on, then.”  Belle began heating milk in a pan.  “I’ve barely left the house in days.  What’s new?”

“I have a date with Dorothy!” said Ruby excitedly.  “We’re going to the party tonight. Together.”

“Good for you.”  Belle couldn’t help grinning.  “What about you, Mary Margaret?”

“No date,” she confirmed.  “But honestly, I’m okay with that.  Choices are pretty thin on the ground.”

“She’s still holding out for John Doe,” confirmed Ruby, and Mary Margaret blushed.

“I just think he looks - nice,” she said, and took a deep breath, nodding.  “He has nice hands.”

“He’s in a coma, Mary Margaret.”

“I didn’t say it was an ideal situation,” she said.  “Belle, come and sit down. I can do that, you need to open your presents.”

“Open this one first,” added Ruby, holding up a gift.  “It’s your Secret Santa. Dorothy got vodka, but this is in a box, and it rattles.  Could be jewellery.”

“I doubt it, there was a thirty-dollar limit,” said Belle, but she sat down at the table while Mary Margaret went to watch the pan of milk.

Ruby handed her the present, a flat, rectangular box wrapped in dark green paper and gold ribbon.  The box itself was plain and black, and Belle opened it up, looking inside to see what looked like a sheaf of papers, folded into thirds.  The item that had caused the box to rattle was wedged at the side, and she picked it out, eyes running over a key chain attached to a flat piece of brass, moulded and enamelled to represent a pile of books in gleaming jewel colours, red and blue and green.  Belle felt herself smile; it was a fitting gift for someone who liked books so much.

“What else is in there?” asked Ruby.

Belle put the key chain aside and took out the papers.  Opening them up, she spied a sticky note in green, a sentence stretching across it in neat, slanting script: _in case you want more keys._ Curious, she opened up the papers, frowning a little as she saw the Mayor’s seal at the top.

_Dear Miss French,_

_I am delighted to offer you the position of town librarian, subject to the terms set out in the attached contract, for an initial period of twelve months starting on January 1st 2019…_

Belle clapped a hand to her mouth, her eyes wide, her heart thumping painfully.

“What is it?” asked Ruby excitedly.

Belle shook her head, flattening out the letter and reading it over again.  It seemed real. The position of librarian, at a wage that, while nowhere near what she could have earned in Boston, was substantially more than she was currently making.  An initial contract for a twelve-month period, after which it would be reviewed to assess the success of the library and the use amongst the town’s residents. Belle chewed her lip as she read.  The Mayor stated that she would be responsible for setting up the library itself, including cleaning and arranging for any necessary repairs, and there was a small allowance of a thousand dollars to purchase new books.  She shook her head, knowing it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for what she wanted to do, and already having ideas for fundraising drives.

Mary Margaret set a mug of hot chocolate in front of her, sliding into her chair and eyeing Belle curiously as she read the letter.  On the last page, the Mayor explained that the library came with a one-bed apartment which she could rent separately, if she so wished.  Utilities included. Belle could have squealed in delight. It was all there. Everything she could have possibly wanted all there in one little cardboard box.  Everything but a date with the man of her dreams, of course, but she couldn’t fault the Mayor for that. Even Mayor Mills was unable to work miracles.

“Are you gonna tell me what it is, or do I have to throw this at you?” demanded Ruby, holding up her mug, and Belle laughed and handed over the letter as she took up the contract.

The contract was what made her accept the reality of what she was being offered, the dry clauses and sub-clauses going into far too much detail for the gift to be a cruel prank.  She could feel tears welling in her eyes, and dashed them away as Ruby made strangled noises of excitement.

“Oh my _God_ , Belle!” she squeaked.  “This is _amazing_!  _This_ was your Secret Santa present?  I heard Zelena complaining because she got a _vibrator_!  I mean, not that I’d turn one of _those_ down, but compared to your dream job?  Unbelievable!”

“You’re right, it is unbelievable,” said Belle.  “But I can’t see the Mayor’s office getting involved in a prank, so maybe it’s true.”

“Just give them a call if you’re worried,” suggested Ruby.  “But it looks legit. Damn, girl! Who was your Santa?”

“Don’t know,” said Belle honestly.

“Any idea who it might be?”

Belle hesitated.  She knew who she wanted it to be, but wanting and knowing weren’t the same thing.

“Well, I can guarantee it wasn’t Zelena,” she said.  “But everyone else knows about my love of books and the fact that I want to be a librarian.”

“Yeah, but who’s got an in with the Mayor?” asked Ruby.  “There’s your angle.”

“I don’t know.”  Belle pursed her lips thoughtfully.  “Maybe someone saved her life once.”

“ _Henry’s_ life,” corrected Mary Margaret.  “It would be Henry or Emma, I’m willing to bet money on it.  The two people she cares about most in the world.”

“One of the doctors, then,” said Belle, feeling a warm glow in her chest.

“So it’s either Jefferson or Gold,” said Mary Margaret.  “Whale would get you something suggestive like Santa-inspired lingerie.”

Belle pulled a face, giggling.

“I think it’s Gold,” whispered Ruby, eyes gleaming.  “And I also think that there’s no way he’d go to all that trouble for a Secret Santa present for just anyone.  He’s in love with you.”

“He’s not…”

“No, he is!” insisted Ruby, and rolled her eyes with a groan.  “Look, I was waiting for him to say something, but the guy’s an idiot!  He likes you. He wants to ask you out but for some reason he keeps not doing it and I can’t take it anymore!”

Belle stared at her.

“How do _you_ know?”

“Overheard him talking to Dorothy and Jefferson.”

Belle huffed.  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because he said he was gonna ask you out and I didn’t want to cramp his style!” said Ruby, throwing up her hands.  “But apparently the guy doesn’t have any. He’s hopeless!”

“But - but he’s never said anything!” protested Belle.  “He told me I looked ‘okay’ in the calendar! He said I was ‘no more repulsive than anyone else’!  I just assumed he wasn’t interested!”

“Holy crap, he’s even worse than I thought,” remarked Ruby, sipping her chocolate.

“Maybe he just says the wrong thing in stressful situations,” suggested Mary Margaret.  “Here’s an idea, Belle. Take the pressure off and ask him out yourself.”

“It’s New Year’s Eve,” added Ruby, with a smirk.  “Kiss him at midnight.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @thespinningmeanie prompted: "Gold and Belle finally talked and admitted they've fallen for each other"
> 
> This prompt was sitting in my inbox for some time...
> 
> This ties in with that very first ficlet I wrote for Tis the Season. I changed up some of the dialogue, because they know one another better than they did in that ficlet, but it's still New Year's Eve, and Gold is still gonna get kissed.

Despite Gold’s firm resolution that he would ask Belle out on a date, events seemed to conspire against him. It was true that they were working the same shift that New Year’s Eve, but with half the usual staff in the hospital, and New Year celebrations getting out of hand all over town, it was proving to be a frantic and exhausting night.  In none of the ways he would want if he ever _did_ manage to get a date with her.

He had barely seen Belle all evening, other than a glimpse of her running along a corridor with her arms full of supplies, dark hair bouncing around behind her.  The only words they had exchanged were her hurried description of the condition of the latest patient, passed on from one of the nurses, or a brief greeting as they passed each other moving to and from the wards.  It was infuriating, but he told himself he could wait until the end of their shift. If she said yes, it would let him leave work on a high, and if she said no, he figured he’d be too tired to feel bad.

Gold checked Leroy’s vitals, shaking his head over having to admit the man for alcohol poisoning.  He was planning on having a stern word with him when he came to; at this rate he’d pickle his liver before Astrid could get her way and start dating him.  The two of them were even more useless than he was at asking for what they wanted, it seemed. He made a note on the chart, setting it back in place at the end of the bed, and glanced around as Belle hurried over with a file in her hand.

“Who’s next?” he asked absently, taking it from her.

“Henry Swan-Mills slipped on the ice earlier today,” she said.  “Emma thought he’d be okay, but he seems to have gotten worse as the evening went on.  Suspected broken arm, Graham says.”

“That boy’s always in trouble,” he muttered, and looked her over, noticing how weary she looked.  “Haven’t you been here all night? You should get home.”

“I’m covering for Astrid,” she said.  “Can’t do everything she does, obviously, but every little helps, I guess.  I get off at six, like you.”

_So she’ll be leaving when I do.  Right. Nothing for it, then. I can ask her when we go.  I’m gonna do it._

“Still,” he said aloud.  “New Year’s Eve. Don’t you young people count down the hour and kiss each other, or something?”

Belle grinned at him, eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.

“Well, it _is_ almost midnight,” she said.  “How about it?”

“How about what?” he asked, confused.

“New Year’s Eve kiss, of course.”

Gold swallowed hard, blinking at her rapidly, his heart suddenly thumping hard in his chest.

“I’ve - I’ve never had one.”

Belle’s smile grew.

“You’ve never had a New Year’s Eve kiss?” she said.  “I could change that, you know.”

He licked his lips, wondering if he had fallen asleep in the break room and was dreaming this entire encounter.  He figured that if she offered to go down on him he could pretty much guarantee that he had, but she was simply smiling at him.  Smiling and waiting for his answer.

“You - you want to kiss me?”   _Jesus fucking Christ, you idiot, are you waiting for a bloody written invitation? Kiss the girl, you moron!_

Belle shrugged, glancing to the bed beside him.

“Well, it doesn’t look as though Leroy would be up to it, so yeah.”

Gold licked his lips again, and she rolled her eyes with a sigh.

“Stirling,” she said patiently.  “I want to kiss you. In fact I’ve wanted to kiss you for some time, and I get the feeling you want to kiss me, so - is that okay?”

He stared at her dumbly, words piling up in his throat and screaming to get out, a painful lump that he couldn't seem to shift.  Belle put her hands on her hips, looking determined.

"Stirling Gold," she said, her voice firm.  "I like you, okay?  Not in a 'friend' way, not as a colleague, and definitely not as some sort of mentor.  I like you.  I'm attracted to you emotionally, physically and sexually.  Am I making myself clear?"

He swallowed, heart thumping high in his throat, but nodded.

"Yes."  His voice was hoarse.  "I - like you too.  Like that."

"So can we kiss?"

There was a touch of impatience in her voice, a glint of danger in her eyes, and he nodded again.

“Alright,” he said.

She reached into her pocket for her phone, her eyes flicking up to meet his as she checked the clock.

“At midnight, then,” she said, and they watched as the time counted down.

“Five,” she said, and Gold murmured with her.  “Four. Three. Two. One.”

She leaned in to kiss him, the press of her lips soft and warm against his, and Gold let out a tiny groan at the feel of her.  One hand cupped his cheek, fingers sliding into his hair and making him shiver, and the tip of his tongue gently pushed against her lips in response.  Belle opened her mouth, tongue stroking against his, and he let out a low hum of pleasure at finally tasting her. His arms went around her, pulling her close against him, eyes closed, lost in the kiss, and she melted into him as it deepened, her tiny moan sending a ripple of sensation through his body.  It was everything he had wanted, for so long. It was perfect. Eventually she pulled back, their lips parting, the taste of him still on her tongue. She was wide-eyed and a little breathless, her lips full and dark, and he imagined he looked just as stunned as she.

“Happy New Year,” she said softly, and he smiled.

“Yes.”  He licked his lips to catch the last taste of her.  “Belle, would you have dinner with me?”

That sentence, impossible to verbalise for so long, seemed to fall from his mouth with ease, as though her kiss had unlocked something deep in his soul, and he wanted to collapse with relief.  He waited anxiously for her reply, and Belle’s smile widened, her eyes sparkling.

“Yes,” she breathed.  “Yes, I’d love to.”

Gold wanted to punch the air, to dance around the ward despite his bad leg, but contented himself with a smile.

“Tomorrow night?” he asked eagerly.  “I mean - I mean not this night coming, I mean the night after.  I should think you’ll want to go to bed early tomorrow night - I mean this night coming.  Not that I’m suggesting you want to go to bed with _me_ \- I - I just mean you’ll want to sleep.  Alone. You know, given the late night we’re having right now.  This night.”

Her brow had furrowed a little, and he snapped his mouth shut, wanting to sigh in frustration.  Back to having zero control over his vocal chords. Either he couldn’t speak or he blurted out a load of bollocks.  No bloody middle ground. At least he’d managed to ask her to dinner, he supposed.

“Wednesday night?” she queried, and he nodded mutely.  “Yes, I could do that.”

“Right.”  He released her from his arms, taking a step back.  “Right. Well. Good. Uh - you want to come over at seven-thirty?  I’ll cook.”

She smiled, a beautiful sight, her eyes lighting up, and he felt his heart clench.

“Sounds perfect,” she said.

“Yes.”  His throat bobbed as he swallowed.  “Yes.”

Belle bit her lip, looking amused by his reaction.

“Henry’s in the emergency room,” she reminded him, and he started.

“Right!  I’ll - I’ll get to work, then.”

“Happy New Year, Stirling,” she added, and he smiled.

“Happy New Year, Belle.”

* * *

Gold drove Belle home when their shift ended at six, and she sat quietly beside him in the car, wishing that he wasn’t taking her back to her father’s house.  Wishing that they were instead going home to his place, and crawling into bed together. She was surprised that her imagination was currently pushing the idea of them snuggling up and falling asleep rather than anything more adventurous, but she supposed it was the fatigue talking.  At any rate it was a moot point; she had to be there for when Moe woke up, and for the next few weeks she was stuck at her father’s place, caring for him until she could leave him to his own devices and move into her own apartment.

She wasn’t sure how to raise the issue of the Secret Santa gift; she wanted to be sure that he knew how grateful she was, and she didn’t feel that she could do that in a brief conversation.  On the other hand, she didn’t want him to think that she had only agreed to have dinner with him because she felt obligated to him. She wrestled with her indecision as Gold turned into her road, and decided to leave discussion of the gift until their date.

He pulled up outside her house, tyres squeaking a little in the thick, fresh snow, and looked across at her as he parked.  His eyes were tired, his face drawn, but she thought how handsome he looked, his tiny smile making his eyes crinkle at the corners.  Her hand slid over his thigh, making his smile widen.

“Thank you,” she said.  “I’m - I’m really looking forward to our date.”

“Me too.”

He was gazing at her, his eyes soft, and she leaned in to kiss him, one hand reaching up to cup his cheek as her lips pulled at his.  He turned a little in his seat to face her, the kiss deepening, and Belle was sorely tempted to tell him to drive on and take her to his house.  She pulled back before she could say anything, biting her lip to capture the taste of him. Gold pressed his forehead to hers, his breathing unsteady.

“Right,” she said reluctantly. “Uh - Happy New Year.  I hope you get some sleep.”

“You too,” he said, sitting back.  “Don’t run yourself into the ground caring for your father.  It’ll do him good to stay active with some light tasks.”

Belle thought that was highly unlikely, given that he hadn’t been inclined to lift a finger around the place even before his heart attack, but she said nothing.

“I’ll - I’ll see you tomorrow, then,” she said.  “Seven-thirty, right?”

“Right.”

She smiled, kissing him again, and took off her belt, opening the car door and getting out into the frigid air.  Snow was still falling, though lightly, the flakes pattering against the exposed skin of her face, and she watched as Gold pulled away in the Cadillac, the car moving slowly on the snow-covered street until it was out of sight.

Belle sighed, feeling drained as she trudged up the path, and let herself into the house as quietly as she could. There was no sound from her father’s room, so she crawled into bed to grab what sleep she could before he woke, a broad smile on her face as she thought of her upcoming date with Gold.  At last, after months of pining and hoping and despairing, they would finally be spending an evening together. And, if she had her way, many more in the future.

* * *

The sound of Moe blundering around in the kitchen woke her far earlier than she wanted, and she sighed as he called up the stairs.

“Belle!  Are you ever getting up?  We’re out of coffee!”

Growling to herself, Belle pushed up out of bed and stomped to the door, wrenching it open.

“No we’re not, there’s a new packet in the cupboard!” she snapped.  “And I was in bed because I didn’t get home until six-thirty, remember?”

“Oh.  Right.”  A moment.  “Is this all the bacon we have?”

She sighed heavily, grabbing her robe from the back of the door and shrugging it on.

“You can’t have bacon, remember?” she said shortly.  “Go and do your exercises, I’ll make you some porridge.”

Moe grumbled something, and shuffled off to the lounge.  After a moment she heard the TV start up, and ran her hands through her hair with a frustrated sigh.  A few weeks. A few weeks and she could move into the apartment above the library. It couldn’t come soon enough.

* * *

New Year’s Day passed quickly, with Belle spending most of her time cooking and cleaning up.  Moe had cheered up a little when she served up roast chicken, and even ate all the vegetables she gave him, after which he fell asleep on the couch while she did the laundry.  She was tired from lack of sleep, and went to bed early, hoping to be in better shape for her date. Moe was awake before her the next morning, and the scent of fresh coffee pulled her out of bed and downstairs, where he was cooking eggs.  Belle’s mouth flattened, and he shrugged at her expression.

“I’m having two scrambled eggs and one piece of bacon, that’s all,” he said, before she could criticise his choice.  “It’s a treat.”

“As long as you go back to the healthy stuff tomorrow, I guess,” she said, sitting down.  “By the way, you’ll have to get your own dinner tonight, I’m going out.”

“Since when?”

“Since now.”  She poured herself some coffee.  “I have a date.”

“Yeah?”  Moe looked suspicious.  “Who with?”

“Dr Gold.”

“Dr - the bloke with the arse?”

He looked outraged, and Belle rolled her eyes.

“The very same,” she said dryly.

“But - but…”  Moe opened and closed his mouth.  “He’s got to be twice your age!”

“So?”

 _“So?”_  He gestured with a spatula.  “What are you two gonna have in common?”

“Lots of things, as it turns out,” she said stiffly.  “Why do you care? I thought you’d be pleased. You’re always telling me to get my head out of my books and start socialising.”

“Yes, but - ah, never mind.”  He shook his head, serving up the eggs and bacon onto a plate.  “Tonight, you say?”

“Yes, he’s cooking me dinner.”

“You’re going to his _house_?”

“Yes Dad,” she said patiently.  “I stayed there when I was sick, remember?  It’s a very nice house. He doesn’t have a sex dungeon or a bunch of serial killer trophies.  It’ll be fine.”

He gave her a flat look, and carried his plate to the table, slumping into the seat.

“Guess I’ll amuse myself then,” he grumbled.  “I’ll watch some TV.”

“No takeout,” she said, raising a warning finger.  “I cooked you some healthy food, and it’s all in the freezer in portions.  You just need to stick it in the microwave.”

He grumbled again, and Belle sighed, sipping at her coffee.

“What time will you be back?” he asked, and she hesitated.

“I don’t know.”

“Well, are we gonna agree a time, or are you gonna make me stay up all night worrying?”

“Dad…”

“I’m just saying, it would be nice to know where you are, that’s all.”

“Okay, fine,” she sighed.  “Unless you hear from me to say otherwise, I’ll be home by eleven, okay?”

He grunted, digging into his eggs, and she buried her nose in her coffee.  If things turned out the way she hoped, it would be a late night indeed.

* * *

She prepared herself carefully that evening, taking a long bath, which also had the effect of relaxing her after a somewhat trying day trying to get Moe to buy into the new diet and fitness regime.  He was acting like a reluctant toddler, and it was starting to get on her last nerve, so she put on some music, ran a bubble bath, and had a blissful soak.

She put on a relatively new dress, a deep blue colour with a plunge neckline and a full skirt which showed off her curves and suited her colouring.  Ruby had given her pretty silver earrings for Christmas, so she wore those, smiling as she turned this way and that before the mirror, dark curls bouncing around her shoulders. She looked good enough to eat, in her opinion. With any luck, Dr Gold would have an appetite.

It was still snowing, and she had no desire to walk through the snow in tiny shoes, so she carried those in her bag, along with condoms, a toothbrush, clean underwear and tights, and a pot of moisturiser.  Just in case. She let the bag swing as she walked, happiness giving her energy, face turned up to catch the snowflakes on her skin as she strode along in sturdy boots, the cold air sharp at the back of her throat.  Turning into the road on which Gold’s house stood made her smile, the light from inside sending out a warm glow as she trotted up the path.

He answered the door in his suit pants and waistcoat over a purple silk shirt, his tie dark blue.  His eyes crinkled as he smiled, and Belle rose up on her toes with a beaming grin as she leaned in to kiss him.  Gold pulled her inside the house, using his cane to push the door shut behind her, his lips sliding over hers as the kiss deepened.  Belle let her bag fall, hands resting at his waist, feeling the heat of him through the waistcoat, and a moan came from her as his tongue stroked hers.

Gold broke the kiss with a gasp, chest heaving, already hard in his pants, and she was gazing up at him with heavy-lidded eyes and a wicked smile curving her mouth.

“Well,” she murmured.  “Here’s to an enjoyable evening.”


	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: "How did you know?"
> 
> This chapter took me ages to write, but hopefully it's worth the wait :)
> 
> Thanks to everyone that voted for this fic in the TEAs and helped it to win Best Storybrooke. I'm afraid the only parts of Storybrooke we'll see in this chapter are Gold's kitchen and Gold's bedroom, but perhaps you won't mind that too much XD

Belle took a step back, her lips tingling from the pressure of his kiss.  Gold was watching her with wide eyes, breathing heavily, and she felt her belly clench at the sight of his obvious arousal.  After so long wondering if he actually liked her or not, it was gratifying to see that she could produce that sort of reaction.  She smiled, fingers slowly unbuttoning her coat, and he seemed to start into action, slipping behind to take it from her and hang it on the rack.  Belle quickly changed her heavy boots for the little shoes in her bag, wriggling her feet in them. She pulled the hat from her head and unwound the scarf from her neck, and Gold swallowed hard as he looked her over.

“You look - very lovely,” he said, and Belle’s smile widened.

“So do you,” she said, and put her head to the side.  “Well. Here we are. At last.”

“Yes.”  He looked a little wild-eyed, as though he was undergoing some sort of internal panic attack.  “Uh - come on through to the kitchen.”

She fell into step behind him, following him into the kitchen, where it was warm and smelling of something savoury.  A dish covered in foil sat on top of the counter, along with thick pieces of fillet steak nestled on a plate, next to prepared carrots, fine green beans and sprouting broccoli.  The vegetables were lined upon a chopping board, the carrots and beans trimmed to even lengths.

“I - I thought we’d have steak,” he said, gesturing at the food.  “I prepared some potatoes dauphinoise, and a red wine sauce. Are you hungry?”

“How long will it take to cook?” she asked.

“Oh, only around twenty minutes or so,” he said.  “I need to take the foil off the potatoes and brown the top. They’re already cooked, so they just need heating through. I can cook the vegetables and the steak while that’s finishing off.”

“You _are_ prepared,” she said, impressed.  “So it’ll be twenty minutes in total?  That won’t take long, once we decide we’re hungry.”

“No.”  He glanced around.  “Aren’t you hungry now?”

Belle pursed her lips, stepping closer, and ran her eyes over him very deliberately.

“Depends what you mean,” she said.

She made her voice low and suggestive, and when her eyes reached his he was staring at her with a stricken look as though he had just been whacked around the back of the head with something heavy.  She was almost tempted to take pity on the poor man and back off, but the kiss had only whetted her appetite for more.  He was still breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling beneath the waistcoat, and she wanted to open it up and slide her hands inside over the thin silk.  She wanted to feel the heat of his body through his shirt as they kissed, to peel the silk from his skin and kiss her way down, to have him inside her.

She wondered how he would react if she told him that she wanted to have sex with him; it was their first date, after all, and he was the old-fashioned type.  But there again it seemed as though they had been building to this moment almost since the first, so perhaps he’d agree.  Either way, she decided there was no harm in asking.  But perhaps he needed a minute or so to get used to the idea.

“I don’t suppose you have any wine, do you?” she asked, and Gold blinked, looking flustered.

“Oh, of course.  Forgive me, I should have offered you some.”

He pushed away from her, hand shaking a little as he reached for the open bottle of wine.  He almost knocked it over, and Belle reached out and grasped the bottle firmly, putting her other hand on his arm.

“Stirling,” she said gently.  “Relax.  We have all night to work out what we’re doing.”

“Yes.”  He let out a sigh, and gave her a tiny smile.  “I’m sorry, I’m just - it’s been a long time since I had a date.  I’m not even sure what one does these days.”

Belle had to smile at that.

“Well,” she said, reaching for two clean glasses.  “I think the only rule is that we enjoy ourselves. What form that takes is up to us.”

“Yes, I suppose so.”

She poured two glasses of wine, and turned to face him, holding one out for him to take and then raising her own.

“I’m looking forward to eating dinner with you, and having some pleasant conversation, and kissing you some more,” she said, and he grinned.

“Yes, so am I.”

Gold clinked his glass against hers, and they took a drink.

“I’d also very much like to have sex with you,” she added.

Gold choked, wine spraying outward in a red mist, and Belle tried not to giggle at his wide-eyed stare.  Wine had coated the front of her dress, but she didn’t care.  She reached for a dish towel, dabbing at herself, and Gold was still staring at her as she blotted wine from his chin.

“What did you say?” he whispered.

“I said I’d like to have sex with you,” she said.  “Lots of it, actually.”

“What - now?” he asked incredulously, and she pursed her lips as she tossed the dish towel aside.

“Either before or after the dinner, I’m not too concerned about the timing,” she said.  “Oh, but only if you’re ready, of course.  I don’t want to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“Right,” he said weakly, looking dazed.

“I’m serious,” she insisted.  “You don’t have to look like a rabbit in the headlights, I’m not gonna jump you.”

He took another drink, watching her over the rim of his glass.

"God, your dress," he said, shaking his head.  "I'm so sorry."

"Don't worry about it," she said.  "It'll come out.  I guess maybe I should have waited until you didn't have a mouthful of wine before propositioning you, hmm?"

He gave her a half-smile at that, his eyes looking beyond her, and she reached out to touch his arm, making him start.

"I - I never meant to make you uncomfortable," she said gently.  "We can wait, if you're not ready.  It's fine."

"It's not that," he said, and she pursed her lips.

"You're worried about it, though," she observed, and he met her eyes for a moment, a slanting grin pulling up one corner of his mouth.

"How did you know?"

"I mean it," she insisted.  "I'm happy just to be on a date with you.  We can just eat steak and drink wine and complain about Zelena if you like."

Gold pulled a face.

"I certainly have no intention of allowing Miss Mills to take up any of our time this evening," he said.  "And please don't think I'm averse to - being physical - with you.  That's not it.  I - I'd be honoured that you'd even consider it."

"But?"

Gold eyed her for a moment, taking a drink of wine.  The light was gleaming on his hair, his eyes dark, and she watched as the tip of his tongue swept a droplet of wine into his mouth, his throat bobbing as he swallowed.  It was only making her desire for him grow. She wanted to kiss him again.  He put down the glass, fingertips pushing it across the counter a little way, and his fingers splayed out a little to take some of his weight as he looked back at her.

“It’s been a long time, Belle,” he said quietly.  “I mean a _long_ time.”

“Like I said.”  She put her glass next to his.  “Only when you’re ready.”

Her fingers slid slowly across the counter, until the tips just brushed against his.  She half-expected him to flinch, but he dropped his eyes to their hands, and gently laced his fingers through hers, squeezing a little.  He edged closer, and she reached out to slide a hand over his hip as he straightened up, his hand still clasping hers. She could smell him, his cologne and the musk of his own scent, and she inhaled deeply as she inched closer, until her breasts just brushed against him.  Gold let out a low rumbling groan from deep within his chest, his forehead dipping to rest against hers, and she turned her head a little, lips brushing against his. His breath was cool on her mouth, his lips soft, and she gently took his lower lip in between hers, pulling at it a little before letting it slip out, her lips stroking over his, kissing him again.

He released her hand, sliding an arm around her waist and pulling her against him as his mouth opened, and Belle let out a tiny moan as his tongue touched hers.  Gold’s hand slid up her body, lifting to cup her face, his fingers pushing into her hair as the kiss deepened. She pressed herself against him, her tongue stroking his, her hands reaching up to push through the soft sweeps of his hair.  Gold turned, pushing her back against the counter, the kiss growing frantic and messy, and she lifted a leg, curling a foot around the back of his thigh and tugging him close. She could feel the length of him pressed against her, the proof of his need, and it made desire surge within her.  He broke the kiss with a gasp, his mouth trailing along her jaw and down her throat, and a low groan came from him as her fingers scraped through his hair.

“Can we go upstairs?” she whispered.

Gold raised his head, his breathing heavy, his eyes wide with something in between shock and confusion.  It made her want to giggle, but she cupped his face, thumbs gently stroking. One step at a time.

“We don’t have to,” she said gently.  “I don’t want to pressure you. Just tell me what you want.  It’s fine if you just want to kiss, or - or you’d rather eat dinner and talk.”

Gold licked his lips, his breath steadying somewhat.  His hand was still in her hair, fingers gently stroking the nape of her neck, and he shook his head a little.

“I - I don’t want to eat dinner,” he said, his voice low and rough.  “Maybe we could go upstairs and - and see how things go.”

“That sounds perfect,” she agreed, and kissed him again, if briefly.

His lips followed hers as she pulled back, and she couldn’t help smiling, eyes flicking up to meet his as her hands dropped from his soft hair to his thin shoulders.  The palms ran downwards over the planes of his chest, curling around his waist.

“Right,” she said softly.  “Upstairs, then.”

“Right.”  He was still staring at her, and he blinked rapidly, looking agitated.  “Oh.  Uh - I didn’t get any protection.  I - I didn’t want to presume.  Actually, to be completely honest, I had no idea you’d even suggest it, and now I feel like an idiot, and—”

“No no, it’s fine,” she said hastily.  “I have some in my bag.”

“Right.”  He swallowed hard.  “Well.”

She was beginning to think he’d change his mind, but he took a step back, fingers tightening around the handle of the cane.  He held out a hand to her, and she slid her fingers across his palm, tightening her grip as he headed for the stairs. Belle snagged her bag on the way, her heart thumping as she followed him up in silence.  Excitement was rising within her, tinged with a little nervousness. They had waited so long, and she didn’t want anything to go wrong. Which of course meant something probably would. She ran through potential pitfalls in her mind; they had protection, no one was drunk or sick, they had each agreed to what was about to happen.  Barring an unexpected emergency at the hospital, everything should go according to plan.

They reached the bedroom without incident, and Gold turned on the lamps, a gentle, muted light filling the room.  Belle glanced at the bed she had briefly spent time in, when she had been sick with the flu, and barely aware of what was happening.  She was determined to enjoy every second of her time in it now. Placing her bag on the dresser, she rummaged in it for the packet of condoms, opening it up and taking out two to place on the nightstand.  When she turned around, Gold had closed the curtains and was watching her, his eyes dark in the low light of the lamps, his hair soft and shining. She wanted to kiss him again.

She kicked off her heels and stepped towards him, reaching up to run her hands over his chest as she stretched up on her toes to kiss him.  Gold let out a tiny groan as their lips met, his hands sliding around her waist and pulling her close, and Belle let her tongue stroke against his as her fingers delicately plucked open the buttons of his waistcoat.  She got it open, pushing it from his shoulders, and he shook it off, draping it over the back of a nearby chair. The heat of his skin warmed her hands through the silk of his shirt, and she let the kiss deepen as she reached for the knot of his tie, tugging at it with her thumbnails and pulling it open. The kiss grew heavy, their lips slippery with saliva, his breath hot on her mouth.

Belle pulled the tie from around his neck and tossed it aside, fingers going to work on the buttons of his shirt, and Gold’s hands slid up her waist a little, his touch hesitant, uncertain.  She pulled at his lips with hers, breaking the kiss and sinking back on her heels to meet his eyes. His pupils had grown wide and dark, his breathing unsteady, and she took one of his hands in hers and put it to her breast.  He groaned, bending his head to kiss her hungrily, squeezing her breast as he turned her and pushed her back against the wall.

Belle moaned, lifting a leg and stroking it up his, her hands shaking as she tugged the shirt out of his pants, her fingers unfastening the last few buttons and pushing it open.  His skin was burning hot to the touch, and she slid her palms up over his chest, her tongue probing and stroking as his hand left her breast and slid down to grasp her rear. She could feel him, hard against her belly, and it excited her, made her desperate to get their clothes off, to feel his skin against hers.  She pulled her mouth from his, and Gold kissed down her neck, sinking his teeth into her and making her shiver deliciously.

“Unzip me!” she whispered.

He froze momentarily, but drew back, putting gentle hands on her shoulders and turning her to face the wall. Belle reached up to pull her hair to the side, exposing the zipper of her dress, and he drew it down, pushing the dress from her shoulders and down over her hips until it pooled at her feet.  Belle stepped out, turning to face him in her underwear, and Gold’s eyes widened as he looked her over. His breathing was ragged, his chest heaving, and she reached up to push his shirt down his arms.  There was a moment of frantic struggling as he tried to take it off, and she realised that they hadn’t removed the cufflinks.

“Sorry!” she said quickly.

He shook his head with a rueful grin, stepping back and flailing a little before he could get to the cufflinks. Once they were out and resting on the nightstand, the shirt fluttered to the floor to join her dress, and his hands dropped to his belt.  Belle tiptoed around to his rear, sliding her hands over his naked back as she leaned in to kiss him, and Gold let out a low groan of pleasure at the touch of her lips.  The pants hit the floor, leaving behind the black silk boxers that skimmed his rear, and she eyed him with approval. Gold looked down, and swore under his breath.

“Shoes,” was all he said, and Belle tried not to smile.

“Why don’t I get on the bed?” she suggested.

She left him to it, climbing onto the bed and leaning back against the pillows.  It occurred to her that getting her bra off was only going to be another obstacle for him to surmount, and so she sat forward, reaching behind to unhook it and tossing it to the side.  She left her panties on, watching with her arms behind her head while he bent over and fiddled with his shoelaces. Twin thumps indicated that the shoes were off, and he straightened up, turning to face her and looking a little nervous.  Belle reached out to him as he stumbled towards the bed, his cane out of reach and his limp more pronounced. His foot caught on something as he rounded the end of the bed, and he almost fell, landing heavily beside her.

“Sorry,” he said, with what looked like a frustrated grimace.

“You okay?”

“I don’t know.”

Belle smiled, turning onto her side to face him, and reached up to stroke his hair back.

“We can just take it slow,” she said.  “Kiss me.”

He reached up, his hand stroking over her cheek, fingers pushing into her hair as his mouth found hers, and Belle slid her arm around his waist, pulling him against her as his tongue slipped into her mouth.  Gold let out a low groan, shifting on the bed, gently pushing against her until she rolled onto her back. His lips plucked at hers, his mouth hot and sweet, and she let her fingers stroke up his side, making him shiver as she traced patterns on his skin.  His hand left her hair, sliding down to cup her breast, his fingers trembling as they squeezed her, and she moaned and pushed into his palm.

Gold felt as though he was dreaming, although in the few memorable, wonderful dreams he had had of her, he had never felt awkward, or out of his depth, or forgotten to take off his shoes before his pants.  He had never worried about the scar tissue on his leg, or the ugly way in which the bones had healed, and the thought of how it looked in reality made him want to shrink from her and put his pants back on. He tried to concentrate on her rather than his own insecurities, but it wasn’t easy with the constant distraction of his inner voice reminding him exactly how long it had been since he had sex, and that he had never been skilled at the act in any case.  His mind started to conjure up catastrophic predictions of how the evening might go, the mildest of which was Belle falling from the bed and breaking something.

Furious with himself, he shoved away the images, trying to stay in the moment, with Belle.  He focused on kissing her, which at least seemed to be working. Her breast felt perfect in his hand, at once soft and firm, the nipple pressing into his palm, and she appeared to enjoy his touch.  Encouraged, he pulled his mouth from hers and leaned in to kiss her neck just as she moved to kiss his. They bumped heads, Belle letting out a squeak of surprise that made him want to groan in frustration as he drew back from her.

“God, I’m sorry!” he said quickly.  “I’m sorry, I - this isn’t going well, is it?”

Belle had started giggling, and he was wondering whether that was a bad sign, but she reached up to rub his forehead where it had struck hers, her eyes gleaming.

“We’re doing just fine,” she said gently.  “Try not to worry so much, okay? I won’t break.”

“I know,” he assured her.  “I do, it’s just - well, I didn’t want this to be a disappointment to you, that’s all. And - and I’m pretty sure I’ll be disappointing.”

He gave her a tiny, self-deprecating smile, but she frowned, fingers stroking through his hair.

“You really believe that, don’t you?” she said, her voice soft.  Gold shrugged.

“I mean I’ll try not to be, but as I said, it’s been a long time, and - and I’m not exactly young, and—”

“I have an idea,” she said suddenly, and all at once her smile was back, wide and beautiful and a little wicked.

“An idea?” he asked warily, and the smile grew.

“Yes,” she said.  “A perfect idea. You’re worried about disappointing me, which honestly you don’t need to, but I get it, I do.”  She cupped his face with her hand, her thumb stroking over his cheek. “So how about you let me take the lead?”

Gold blinked.

“Uh - right,” he said.  “Fine. Yes.”

When he thought about it, it made perfect sense.  If Belle took the lead, she could ensure her own pleasure, whatever happened.  It certainly took some of the pressure off. He felt himself smile.

“Yes,” he said again.  “I’d like that.”

“Good.”  She kissed him gently.  “Because I think you need to relax, and I have just the thing.”

She shifted back across the bed a little, pulling him with her, until they lay in the centre.  The pillow where he rested his cheek was still warm from the heat of hers, and he let out a noise of contentment as she kissed him, her hand stroking up his waist and over his naked chest, reaching up to his shoulder and pushing him onto his back.

Belle began kissing down his neck, enjoying the light taste of salt on her lips and tongue as she made her way down to his chest.  She could feel the thud of his heart, his skin hot to the touch, and she trailed her mouth to the dark circle of his nipple, gently sucking it in between her lips and making him jerk in surprise.  Holding back a smile, she let her tongue swirl around the nipple, feeling it harden, her hand sliding over his chest to find the other. She plucked at it with thumb and forefinger, and Gold let out a tiny moan of pleasure, so she sucked at him again, wriggling lower, feeling the hard length of his cock pushing against her belly and between her breasts as she slipped down the bed.

She could feel the rise and fall of his belly as he breathed, pushing up to meet her mouth as she kissed lower. He groaned a little as she ran her tongue down to his navel, and she gently sank her teeth into his skin, tasting him on her tongue.  His hands were in her hair, rumpling her curls, and she kissed downwards, over the slight softness of his lower abdomen, to the waistband of his boxers.  Running her tongue along the skin above them, she reached up with careful fingers, gently lifting them and pulling them down to free his cock.

Gold let out a muffled sort of groan as she exposed him, and Belle tugged the boxers down further, soft silk slipping over his buttocks and down his thighs.  She pulled them off at his feet, tossing them aside, and turned back to him. He had thrown an arm over his eyes, his chest heaving, and she was unsure whether he was lost in the moment, or whether he simply didn’t want to see her expression when she looked at him.  He seemed to have a low opinion both of his physical appearance and likely prowess, and she wanted to give him the support and encouragement he needed to feel at ease with her, to know how much she wanted him.

She started at his feet, with his damaged leg.  The first touch of her lips made him push up on his elbows with a swift, jerking movement and a stricken expression on his face, but she locked eyes with him and kissed him gently, her lips brushing against the scar tissue around his ankle.  Gold was staring at her with wide eyes, his thin chest heaving.

“I–I’m sorry,” he stammered.  “I know it’s not a pretty sight.”

“It’s part of you,” she said, and kissed him again.  “It doesn’t have to be pretty.”

The limb had clearly been badly broken, the scars from metal pins making puckered indentations along his calf, linked by twisting purplish lines where he had been cut open and stitched back together.  Belle wondered how terrible it must have been when he was first injured, and how much pain it still caused him. She kissed her way along each of the scars almost reverently, and he slowly sank back down against the pillows, relaxing at her touch.

Belle kissed up his leg, hands sliding up his thighs as her lips brushed over the knee.  He had fine, dark hairs on his legs, the skin paler than his chest and arms, and she kissed her way higher, smiling against his skin as she heard a sharp intake of breath from him.  Her tongue flickered out to taste him, drawing up the length of his inner thigh, the muscles beneath the skin jerking a little at her touch. There was a tang of salt on his skin, a hint of musk and the faintest scent of herbal shower gel.  Belle swept her tongue higher, her hair brushing against his groin and making him gasp. She drew the tip of her nose along the crease at the top of his thigh, moving outwards towards his hip and inhaling the scent of him as she felt his hands push through her hair.

She kissed the taut skin at his hip, gently pressing her lips against him as she moved inwards.  Shifting a little, she let her cheek brush against his cock, and Gold sucked in a breath, her name whispering out over his lips as he exhaled. He was breathing heavily, fingers stroking through her curls, and let out a low groan as her tongue swirled over the skin of his lower abdomen.  His scent was stronger, a masculine, musky smell, and she let her tongue sweep lower, catching on the coarse, dark hair that spread up from his balls. Belle drew back a little, running her eyes over him. His cock was hard, lying against his belly, a droplet of liquid glistening at the tip, and she let her finger trace the soft sac of his balls, smiling as he jerked in response.  The finger trailed higher, following the path of the thick vein that ran the length of his cock, caressing the head and spreading the bead of fluid that had formed there.

 _“Belle!”_ he whispered, his fingers tightening in her hair.

Slowly, she bent her head to him, using her tongue to retrace the path her finger had taken, circling his balls and drawing up the hard, hot length of him.  Gold groaned, and Belle let her tongue sweep over the tip, his salty flavour making her mouth water. She let her hands slide up, grasping him and gently pulling him upwards, her tongue circling the head of his cock and making it slippery with saliva.  His skin was soft and smooth as silk, the flesh beneath rigid beneath her tongue, and Belle glanced up, meeting his eyes.

He was staring at her as though he couldn’t believe she was real, as though it were an impossible dream, and she sent him a tiny smile before swirling her tongue over the head, her lips sliding down over him as she took him deep.  Gold threw back his head with a long, low groan, his body arching as her mouth closed up around him. It made her want to grin, but she sucked him hard, hearing a whispered _“fuck!”_ from him.  Finger and thumb encircled him, and she began to move, sliding her mouth up and down his length, settling into a steady rhythm, her cheeks hollowing around him.

One hand left her hair, and glancing up she could see that he had thrown his arm over his eyes again, his chest heaving as she sucked, her mouth pulling at his flesh.  He hit the back of her throat, and her flesh closed up around him, so she held him still for a moment as she let the soft tissue of her palate rub over the head of his cock.

“Oh, _Belle_!” he groaned.

She began to suck at him once more, wrapping her tongue around his length, soft lips pressing against his skin as her mouth moved.  His knees had drawn up, his thighs brushing against her shoulders, and she quickened her pace a little, keeping the pressure even between her lips and hand as she moved up and down.  Saliva ran over her fingers in slippery trails, salt spreading on her tongue as fluid leaked from him, and Gold was breathing hard, his fingers twisting in her curls, his cock hardening further as he neared his peak.

She let her mouth pull up the whole length of his cock, almost letting it slip from between her lips before circling the head with with her tongue and plunging back down onto him.  He was moaning, his hips gently bucking as she moved, and she raised her eyes. The arm was gone from across his face, the hand clutching the blankets, and his head was thrown back, the tendons in his neck straining as he whispered a curse under his breath.  She sucked hard, her mouth hurting a little with the pressure of it, and he moaned, a low, desperate sound, his hips rising up to meet her as her lips tugged at him.

“Oh my _God_!” he gasped.

Belle took him deep again, massaging the head of his cock with the back of her throat, and his groans became louder and filled with longing.  She could feel that he was close, his body stiffening, the muscles of his inner thighs twitching, and she increased the pace, moving her head up and down while her free hand caressed his balls, her nails gently scratching at him.  He seemed to hold his breath, his body stiffening, and all at once his head jerked up, mouth open and eyes wide.

“Oh, Belle!” he gasped.  “Belle, I’m gonna - I’m - I’m - _fuck_!”

He threw his head back against the pillows with a hoarse cry as he came, and his cock pulsed: hot, salty fluid spurted into her mouth, sharp on her tongue.  Belle sucked at him hungrily, pulling every drop from him, letting his cum run into her throat, and he groaned and jerked as she drank him down. His body twitched, legs shaking around her, and she let her hands caress his skin, sliding over the taut plane of his belly and up to his chest as her mouth slowed its movements.  Gold settled into the blankets with a satisfied, shuddering sigh, and she let him slip from between her lips as he began to soften, a trail of fluid streaking her chin.

Gold tried to catch his breath, his heart thumping hard in his chest, sweat on his upper lip and a wonderfully heavy feeling in his limbs as waves of pleasure washed over him.  His entire body was tingling, his breathing heavy and ragged, his eyes wide open as he tried to process the sensations. The closest he could come to describing it was being repeatedly electrocuted and then turned inside out through the balls, but it had felt so good he didn’t care.  Belle was grinning up at him, looking impossibly beautiful with flushed cheeks and bright eyes and her hair all awry. Her mouth and chin glistened with saliva, and she pushed up on her hands, walking up the bed to look down on him.

Gold reached up to stroke the hair back from her face, his breathing having steadied a little.  Her skin was soft as silk, an unmistakably smug grin on her face, and he realised with absolute certainty that he was utterly and completely in love with her.  He swallowed hard, thumb stroking her cheek, and Belle’s grin widened.

“Well,” she said.  “How was that for round one?”

“Mind-blowing,” he said honestly, and she giggled.

“Glad to hear it.”

He actually did feel a little better, now the initial pressure was off.  She had seen him naked, and not run screaming, so that was a definite plus.  And she liked him enough to give him the best blowjob he’d ever had, so the prospect of there being a second date, third date, or actual relationship between them was definitely higher than he had expected.

“I - I don’t suppose it was as much fun for you, though,” he added, and Belle pursed her lips.

“You’re mistaken, Dr Gold,” she said, making her voice low and sultry.  “This was fulfilling one of my favourite fantasies. Do you know how many times I’ve thought about cornering you in the supply closet and going down on you?”

Gold almost choked at that, which made her giggle, and after a moment he started to laugh too.

“And - and did you ever think about me returning the favour?” he asked, and she looked thoughtful.

“Oh, I _definitely_ thought about that,” she said.  “But we were always in your bed when it happened.  Really fortunate that I came over for dinner, don’t you think?”

“I trust you weren’t having such impure thoughts when you were supposed to be assisting me,” he said softly. “Think of the poor patients.”

Belle pulled a face, fingertips stroking over his scalp.

“Well, I can’t promise you that my thoughts were _completely_ pure when working alongside you,” she admitted. “But I _did_ tend to save the fantasies of you giving me oral sex for when I was alone.  That way I could at least deal with the resulting frustration.”

Gold chuckled as he cupped her face, reaching up to kiss her hungrily.  Her mouth was hot and wet, the taste of his salt on her tongue, and he rolled them, pushing her onto her back as the kiss deepened.  Belle moaned into his mouth, fingers pushing through his hair as his tongue stroked hers, and he gently drew back, their lips parting with a soft, wet sound.  He pressed his forehead to hers in a brief gesture of affection, nose nuzzling hers before he pulled back, pushing up on his elbows. Belle’s fingers twisted idly in his hair, making him smile.

“Well,” he said, feeling slender fingers of anxiety begin to steal over his skin again.  “I think it’s my turn to please you. Maybe make some of those stray thoughts you had come to life.”

She seemed to sense that he was getting nervous again, and lifted her head to kiss his nose.

“We can take our time,” she said.  “Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay,” he said, fully aware that he would.  Belle gave him a knowing look.

“It’ll be _wonderful_ ,” she assured him, and he swallowed hard.

“And - and if it isn’t?”

Belle pursed her lips, her eyes gleaming.

“If it isn’t,” she said, and winked at him.  “Well, you know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”


	27. Chapter 27

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Anonymous prompted: Dr. Gold and Belle take their clothes off and have all the sex. Not just some of it. All of it.
> 
> Anonymous prompted: They have world-is-ending-tomorrow, mind blowing, back scratching, blinding orgasming sex.
> 
> Anonymous prompted: Gold falls on top of Belle and they're both naked and omg theyre having sex
> 
> Anonymous prompted: They have sex. That's it, Sprite. These two need to have sex! :)
> 
> So there was a theme to these prompts and I'd like to say that three out of the four were sent to me around chapter 8 of this fic. So... sorry I made you guys wait? Not really XD

The bedroom was warm, but Belle’s fingertips were cool as they traced over his shoulders.  Gold leaned in to kiss her again, letting his tongue slip into her mouth as she opened for him.  It felt so good to kiss her, so natural, so _right_.  It was as though they had been wasting time all these months doing things other than kissing, and to have her in his arms now was bliss.  He took his time, knowing he would need a break before he could be ready for her again, but Belle seemed to enjoy their kissing, their exploration.  He shifted a little, moving his body to the side and sliding a hand down to cup her breast, and Belle moaned, pushing upwards into his palm as he squeezed.

Kissing her was heavenly, everything he had hoped it would be in the few brief fantasies he had dared to entertain.  She was wonderfully warm and soft in his arms, her skin smooth as silk, fragrant with her perfume and the natural scent of her, and he tried to forget how awkward he felt, how ugly and broken his leg was, how he was too old and too thin and too unsociable for someone as bright and beautiful as she.  She had chosen him, had told him in no uncertain terms that she wanted him, and he was damned if he would disappoint her, as much as his anxiety was whispering that it was highly likely. His skin was still tingling from his orgasm, and he wanted to give her the same pleasure she had given him.  He wanted to make her come.

Although he hadn’t expected Belle to want to sleep with him on the first date, he always liked to be prepared, and to that end he had been reading everything he could on the subject of female pleasure.  Just in case she might have wanted to at some point in the future. In the circumstances, he was relieved that he had started his research so early, and he was frantically trying to remember everything, his brain running a constant loop of advice as he kissed her.  Fingers stroked through his hair, sending delicious sensations through him, and he let his hand slide down over her belly, stroking over warm skin as he brushed the waistband of her panties.

"Take them off!" she whispered.

Gold pushed up onto his knees, hooking his fingers beneath the waistband and drawing her underwear down over her hips.  He slipped them over her thighs and off at her feet, tossing them aside to join their scattered clothes, and turned back to kiss her as he slid a hand over her belly. Her skin was soft as silk, and he inched lower, into the heat and wetness between her legs. Belle moaned into his mouth as his fingers brushed over slippery flesh, and he groaned in response, stroking her, teasing her.  He searched for the nub of her clit, feeling it beneath the pad of his thumb, hard and wet. Belle jerked as his thumb rubbed over it, and he circled it gently, slowly, feeling her arch her body upwards.

She pulled her mouth from his, head rolling back with a moan that sent a dart of desire down through his body to his groin.  He let one of his fingers stroke over her wet flesh, pushing through silken petals to find her entrance, and gently slipped a finger inside her.  Belle moaned as he pushed deep, her flesh gripping him, scalding him, and he kissed along her jaw, lips gently pulling at the skin of her throat as he breathed in the scent of her.  His thumb continued its slow circles, and he stiffened the finger inside her, beginning to thrust it in and out. Belle let out a high-pitched gasp, pushing her hips upward, her legs opening a little wider.

“That’s good!” she breathed.  “That’s so good!”

Encouraged, he held his pace, his movements long, slow, deliberate.  She was hot and wet and beautiful, her flesh like velvet, and he added a second finger, pushing it slowly into her.  Belle moaned again, her tongue wetting her lips, and he kissed her, his tongue stroking against hers, their lips sliding and pulling as his fingers slipped and thrust.  Her hand was in his hair, stroking through the strands, twisting and tugging as her kiss grew hungry. He increased the pace of his thrusts a little, his fingers rigid inside her, his thumb flickering, and Belle moaned and writhed, pulling her mouth from his with a gasp as her head rolled back.  Her cheeks were flushed, her mouth full and moist from the pressure of his, and he could feel her body grow taut, her muscles stiffening as she neared her peak.

He kept up his rhythm, fingers sliding in and out of her, wet with her fluids, his thumb rubbing over her clit, and Belle let out a cry as she came, her flesh clamping around him, her skin flushed and damp as her hips bucked.  He kept pace with her, moving his fingers in short thrusts as she moaned and twitched, and she collapsed back into the bed, gasping for air, the pale skin of her cheeks and chest flushed with exertion, her dark curls spread out on the pillows.  He thought she was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen, and watched her with something approaching awe as she tried to catch her breath, her chest heaving.

Her eyelids flickered and opened, the pale blue of her eyes darkened with desire and the low light from the lamps.  Her full mouth curved upwards in a satisfied smile, and he felt his love for her burn through his body, thudding in his chest with the beat of his heart.  He drew his fingers from her, slippery with her cum, glistening in the warm light. The scent of her pleasure was heavy on them, musky-sweet and addictive, and he ran his tongue over them to catch the taste of her, groaning in pleasure, her salt making his mouth water.

Belle was watching him, her breath still coming hard in her chest, and she raised up to kiss him as he leaned in.  Gold lowered her back on the bed, reaching up to cup her face, damp, sticky fingers pushing into her hair as his tongue explored her mouth.  Her hands raked his scalp, dragging against his hair, making him shiver with her touch, and he groaned contentedly as his chest pushed against hers, as he felt the press of her firm breasts, the heat of her skin.

The kiss grew messy, desperate, and he pulled his mouth free, trailing wet lips along her jaw, licking at her earlobe, moving down to suck at her pulse.  Belle moaned, and he kissed lower, his nose brushing over her skin, lips trailing over the curve of her breast. His body slipped down the bed, legs sliding between hers, and she pulled up one knee, the soft skin of her inner thigh stroking against his hip, his waist.  He felt the taut peak of her nipple against his chin, and sucked it into his mouth, tongue rubbing over the hardened flesh. His hands cupped her, squeezing, and Belle pushed up into his mouth as he sucked at her.

Gold kissed across to her other breast, his tongue circling over her skin, his mouth seeking her nipple as Belle’s fingers stroked through his hair.  He sucked at her, and she moaned in response, the sound of it sending a pulse of desire through his body. He slipped lower, kissing down over her belly, his tongue brushing over the hollow of her navel, his hands sliding down to her thighs and pushing them apart.  He could smell the scent of her, drifting into his nose and filling his head as he shifted lower, and he brushed his lips over her mound, feeling her wetness against his skin. His tongue flickered out to taste her, sliding in between her soft folds, and Belle let out a cry of pleasure, her fingers twisting in his hair.

Gold groaned as he tasted her, tongue flickering over her flesh, her flavour bursting in his mouth as he licked. He was trying to remember everything he had read, but he found it hard to concentrate on anything other than her heat and her scent and the taste of her pleasure.  His tongue rubbed over her clit, circling the tiny bud as she moaned, and he slipped a finger inside her, pushing deep into her as he licked in a steady rhythm.

Her thighs had risen up to brush the sides of his head, her hands still in his hair, and he began to slide the finger in and out, tongue flickering over her.  Belle moaned and writhed, pushing up to meet his mouth, and he gasped against her wet flesh, one hand sliding beneath her leg and up to grasp her rear. Her moans were increasing in pitch, growing louder, more frequent, and he raised his eyes a little to see her arch her back, her breasts pushing high.  He was starting to harden again, his cock swelling against the sheets, and he longed to get inside her, to push deep and feel her all around him.

Gold bent his head to her again, tongue swirling over her skin, finger pushing deep, and Belle whimpered, her body tensing.  He could sense she was almost there, and it made him want to grin with a mix of pride and wonder that he could give her pleasure, that she could respond to him with such enthusiasm, such need.  She was moaning, her hips rocking gently, and he kept up his pace, rubbing over her with the flat of his tongue until she broke with a loud cry of ecstasy. Warm fluid coated his lips, salty-sweet and slippery, and he groaned at the taste, sucking the cum from her and swallowing it down as she jerked and moaned.  His tongue dipped inside her, eager to catch every drop, and he heard her breathing heavily as he pressed the final few kisses to her, his face sticky and damp with her juices.

He began kissing his way upwards, spreading the scent of her on her belly, the strands of his hair sticking to her skin as he moved higher.  Belle was murmuring something, stroking his hair with a shaking hand, and he heard the rustle of plastic. He pushed up on his hands, and she was holding up one of the condoms, looking bleary-eyed and beautiful, a flush high on her cheeks.

“That was _amazing_!” she said, her voice a low purr.  “Are you ready?”

His cock was pressed against her, indicating exactly how ready he was, but he decided not to mention it, taking the condom from her and struggling to get it open before tearing at the packet with his teeth.  Getting it on was even more of an effort before he realised the thing was inside out, but eventually it was on, and he turned back to her, trying to rid his mind of his ever-present anxieties. Belle reached up, stroking his hair back from his face and giving him an encouraging smile.

“I’m ready,” she whispered.

He shifted his position slightly, reaching between her legs.  She was hot and wet, and he slowly pushed two fingers inside her, letting them slide deep.  Belle moaned, pushing her hips upward, and he licked his lips, drawing out the fingers and taking himself in hand.  He guided the head, pushing inside her entrance, inching slowly into her, and Belle drew up her knees, letting him sink deeper.  She was staring up at him, her chest heaving, her hands resting on his upper arms, and he let out a long, low groan of pleasure as he thrust all the way inside her.

For a moment it was almost too much: he was inside her, her heat scalding him, her flesh gripping him tight, and the feeling was incredible.  Belle clenched her muscles, sending a pulse of sensation through him and making him start. She giggled a little, her eyes sparkling as they caught his, and he bent his head to kiss her, rocking his hips to pull out of her a little before sliding back in.  Belle ran her hands up over his shoulders and into his hair, pulling her knees up to grip his sides, tilting her hips to let him push deeper.

The kiss grew harder, heavier, his tongue pushing into her mouth as his cock thrust deep, and he pulled his mouth from hers, wet lips brushing against her as he kissed along her jaw.  Belle let out a gasp as he sucked at her throat, and he began to move with slow circles of his hips, grinding against her as her flesh tugged at him. She moaned, pushing up into him, the firm press of her breasts a pleasant sensation.  He dropped a hand to cup her, squeezing as he pushed inside her, and she wrapped her legs around him, whispering encouragement in his ear.

“Yes!” she breathed.  “Oh, God, yes!”

He raised a hand to cup her face, letting his forehead rest against hers as he moved, his head turning a little to brush his lips over hers.  Belle opened her mouth, tongue stroking against his, tiny moans coming from her as he quickened his pace. Sensations were rising up through his body; he could feel that he was close, that he wouldn’t last, and he tried to think of something else, but the scent of her, the taste of her, the _feel_ of her was too much.  Belle was everything, and he could feel her all around him, gripping him tight.  He was buried in her heat and softness, wrapped in her arms, his tongue in her mouth and his fingers in her hair.  She was moving against him, her hips rocking, her flesh gripping his cock as he thrust deep, and he pulled his mouth from hers as a wave of pleasure rippled through him.  Lights burst behind his eyes as he came with a long, low groan, hot fluid spurting from him, and Belle cried out as her muscles clamped down on him, her nails digging into his shoulders and her head rolling back.

Gold groaned aloud, his orgasm raising goosebumps all over his body and making his skin tingle.  He continued to move with short, shallow thrusts, his cock still pulsing, Belle letting out tiny moans as she bucked her hips, pulling every drop from him.  Their movements slowed, his thrusts longer, deeper, and eventually they drew to a stop, their breathing ragged and uneven, sweat making their skin slippery where their bodies touched.  He was trying to catch his breath, a surge of love for her bursting up through his body and tingling on his lips. Belle let her head flop against the pillows, her cheeks pink with exertion.  She stroked a hand through his hair, damp strands catching on her fingers and a look of sleepy-eyed satisfaction on her face.

“Well,” she murmured.  “That was _definitely_ worth the wait.  I think my head exploded.  How are you with brain surgery, Dr Gold?”

He chuckled at that, enjoying the feel of her fingers tracing patterns on the nape of his neck.

“I’m afraid surgery was never my strong suit,” he said gravely.  “Besides, I don’t think I’m in any position to carry out complex tasks at the moment.”

“Good, because I’m not foreseeing anything more complex than you turning me over and going again,” she said, and his grin widened.

“I’m not sure further exertion is recommended without a period of rest and recuperation,” he said.  “We wouldn’t want to overdo things in our current impaired state.”

“Yeah, neither one of us should operate heavy machinery,” she agreed.  “What do you prescribe, Doctor?”

“I think we should alleviate the symptoms with some bed rest and snuggling,” he said.  “Possibly a little wine and a decent meal, but only if we feel up to it.”

“Well,” she said thoughtfully.  “We should really keep our strength up.  I imagine the underlying cause of our current exhaustion will recur before too long.  You know, if I touch you in the right way.”

Her eyes were sparkling with mischief, her lips biting back a grin, and he felt as though his heart would burst.

“I love you,” he whispered.

His eyes widened in horror as he realised what he’d said, his heart thumping hard as panic made him freeze. Belle was staring up at him, eyebrows raised about as far as they would go, and he cursed his stupid tongue. After so many weeks of hiding his feelings, of not falling at her feet and blurting out how he felt, why oh why had his brain picked _now_ to confess?  He licked his lips nervously.

“Uh - maybe I should take that back,” he said, and Belle pursed her lips.

“Do you want to take it back?”

“No,” he said honestly.

“Then...”

She looked puzzled, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her.

“I - I didn’t mean to say it,” he explained, “because I don’t think you want to hear it, and the last thing I wanted was to scare you off by coming on too strong, but - but it’s not a lie.”

“So you meant it,” she said neutrally.  “You love me?”

“I - yes,” he said wretchedly.  “I do mean it, but - but I should have kept it to myself, and now I’ve made everything - weird.”

She was silent, watching him, and he felt his heart sink.   _That’s it.  You blew it.  Chance of a lifetime and you fucking blew it.  Who says they love someone on the first fucking date apart from weird stalkers, anyway? She’s gonna run screaming and who could blame her, you bloody idiot!_

“I - I never meant to say it aloud,” he went on.  “And - and I’m _certainly_ not expecting you to say it in return. I mean, why would you, that’s ridiculous, it’s only our first date and the _last_ thing I expected was to end up naked with you.  I’m pretty sure the last thing _you_ expected was me saying _that,_ and—”

“Stirling Gold,” she interrupted, her voice firm.  “I love you, too. Pretty sure I’ve been in love with you almost from the first day I saw you.”  

His breath caught in his throat, his heart thumping.

“Really?” he whispered, and she broke into a beautiful smile.

“Really,” she said.  “Now shut up and kiss me again.”


	28. Chapter 28

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @anasiangrump prompted: "I loved KOL.... is there a chance we can get kol Zelenas reaction to belle and Stirling getting together?"

Gold felt as though he was having a strange and wonderful dream.  Belle was kissing him, her fingers in his hair and her soft mouth on his.  Their bodies were pressed together, hot and sticky with perspiration, her scent all over him.  They had been in bed for hours, exploring, learning, and it had already been the most incredible night of his life.  There was a voice at the back of his mind telling him that he was going to be fit for nothing in the morning, but he couldn’t have cared less.

Belle let their lips part, her head dropping back onto the pillows with a contented, sleepy look in her eyes, and he couldn’t help grinning down at her.  Her fingers were still stroking his hair, strands winding around them, delicate touches making him shudder deliciously. A growl from her belly made her eyes widen, and they both chuckled.  Gold kissed her gently.

“Are you hungry?” he murmured, and Belle grinned.

“Starving.”

“I could cook that dinner, you know.”  He kissed her again. “It’ll only take half an hour.”

“Will that mean getting up?” she asked suspiciously.

“I fear so.”

“That sounds _terrible_ …”

He grinned, and she lifted her head to kiss him, making a contented sound as he deepened the kiss.  Belle pulled her mouth from his, suddenly wide-eyed.

“Shit, what time is it?”

“I don’t know.”  He rolled to the side, tilting his head to eye the clock on the nightstand.  “It’s gone eleven. No wonder we’re hungry.”

“No, it’s not that - I told my dad I’d be home by now, that’s all.”

“Oh.”  He tried for a neutral expression.  “Well, you shouldn’t walk back at this hour.  I could take you home, if you like.”

She blinked.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Of course not, but—”

“Good, then I’m staying.  Just let me make a call.”

He slipped off her, and she wriggled out of the bed, scrabbling in her bag for her phone before getting back under the covers.  Gold slipped out, reaching for his robe and tugging it on.

“Hey, Dad.”  Belle was running a hand through her curls in an attempt to tame them.  “Yeah, the snow’s _really_ coming down.  I’m not gonna try and walk back in this.  I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Gold raised an eyebrow as there was an increase in volume from the other end of the line, although he couldn’t work out what was being said.  Belle rolled her eyes.

“Dad, I’m an adult, okay?  My private life is my own affair, I don’t ask you about yours.”  A pause. “Well, whose fault is that? Maybe if you spent less time slobbing in front of the TV drinking beer you could have.”

There was more agitated noise from the phone, and Belle frowned.

“What does it matter how old he is?” she asked sharply.  “We were very good friends anyway, he respects me and we care about each other a lot.  The fact that he’s older than me has no bearing on this relationship.”

There was more distorted bluster from the phone, and Belle sighed heavily.

“I’m sure you can manage to fry some bloody eggs and bacon!” she snapped.  “You coped when I was out of town, right? I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hung up, shaking her head, and sent Gold a weary smile.

“So, that’s out, then,” she said dryly.  “He’s not happy, but given that it’s none of his business, I don’t really care.”

“Nor do I.”

Inwardly he was shouting for joy.  He and Belle were in a relationship.  She had confirmed it, and had told her father so.  They were an item, not just sleeping together. For a brief, wild moment he wondered if it was too early to ask her to move in.  Belle grinned at him, settling herself beneath the covers.

“So,” she said.  “Now that my father is aware that I’m being _thoroughly_ debauched over here, what do you say we satisfy our other needs for a little while?”

“Again?” he said, running a hand through his hair.  “I - I might need twenty minutes or so.”

Belle sighed, giving him a very patient look.

“Food, Stirling,” she said gently.  “Feed me, I’m hungry.”

“Oh.  Right.”

She wriggled a little in the bed, a wicked grin stealing over her face.

“Besides,” she said.  “You need to keep your energy levels up for the rest of the night.”

* * *

Forty minutes later they were seated at the table, Belle in a spare bathrobe and he in his own, tucking into the dinner he had prepared.  She had already praised the flavour of the potatoes and the tenderness of the steak, and while he was aware that he was going to have to stop grinning like an idiot at some point, it was proving difficult.  Belle popped another piece of steak into her mouth, setting down her fork and taking a sip of wine.

“This is really delicious,” she said again.  “And absolutely perfect as a midnight feast.”

He smiled at that.

“It’s a pleasure to have someone to cook for,” he said.

“Maybe we could invite Ruby and Dorothy over one night for a double date,” she suggested, and he nodded.

“That sounds nice.  I’ve only really had Jefferson over for dinner.”

“I like Jefferson.”  She took another drink.  “I think he has a good heart.”

“He certainly does.”

“You think he’ll ever date someone?”

Gold shrugged.

“He says if Grace ever mentions wanting another parent he’d be happy to, but he’s concentrating on being a dad for now,” he said.  “But there again he’s a dreadful flirt and disgustingly handsome, so I suspect the moment he decides he’s interested, he’ll have no problem in getting a date.  Unlike me.”

“I think _you’re_ disgustingly handsome,” she said.  “And you’re also a dreadful flirt. Though in a different way.”

“In that I’m dreadful at flirting?”  Gold chuckled. “Yes, I’m afraid I am.”

She grinned at him, raising a glass.

“We got there in the end,” she said, her eyes sparkling, and he felt his heart swell.

“We did indeed.”

There was silence for a moment.  Gold took another bite of steak, and a forkful of creamy potatoes.  Belle reached for her wine again.

“Who was Grace’s mother?”

“Ah.”  Gold sighed heavily.  “As I understand it, she died when Grace was a baby.  Cancer.”

“That’s so sad.”

“Yes.”  He took a drink of wine.  “Life can be short and brutal.”

“Best to make the most of it, then.”

“A sentiment I can get behind.”

They shared a smile, and Belle turned back to her meal, cutting up the last of her steak.

“I hear the calendar’s been a roaring success,” she said.  “Alice said they’ve been selling like hot cakes. Had to be reprinted, apparently.”

Gold grumbled under his breath.

“Yes, Jefferson took great delight in telling me.”

“Dr December’s lovely arse is being viewed all over the country,” she said, looking amused, and he rolled his eyes.

“Don’t remind me.”

“But I get to see it whenever I like,” she added.  “Good thing too, it’s far too pretty to cover up for eleven months out of twelve.”

“I seem to recall Miss May has a rather lovely arse of her own,” he remarked.

“You should probably check, just to make sure,” she said gravely, and he smirked.

“Oh, I intend to.”

Belle bit back a grin, and there was silence for a moment as they ate.

“I plan to go to the library tomorrow,” she said then, eyeing him, and Gold tried to cover his smile by taking a sip of wine.

“Really?  I thought that was all closed up.”

“Funny thing,” she said.  “Someone encouraged the Mayor to let me reopen the library and give me a job as librarian as part of my Secret Santa gift.  Remarkably generous. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that?”

His grin widened.

“Well, if I admitted to that, it wouldn’t be a secret any longer, would it?”

She put down her knife and fork, reaching for his hand and squeezing, her eyes gleaming as she smiled at him, and he felt his heart thump in his chest.

“Thank you,” she whispered.  “Thank you so much.”

“You should thank Mayor Mills,” he said.  “It’s she that has the power to make such appointments.”

“Oh, I’m sure it was all her idea,” she said dryly.  “I thanked her when I accepted the offer. And as soon as you’re done with dinner, I’m gonna take you back upstairs and show you _exactly_ how grateful I am.”

She sat back, releasing his hand and grinning widely, and Gold grinned back.  Yes. It was far too early to ask her to move in, but he knew with absolute certainty that he wanted to.  She was perfect. She was the one.

* * *

Gold could feel the smile on his face even before he opened his eyes.  His body ached pleasantly, his limbs heavy and tired. It was morning; the light was pressing against his eyelids, making him want to squint. Reaching to the side, his hand slid across cool sheets, searching for Belle.

“The snow was really heavy.”

Her voice made him open one eye a crack.  Belle was standing at the bay window of the bedroom, peering out. She was completely naked, her back to him, and he ran his eyes over her curves, his grin widening.

“You’ll freeze to death,” he said, and Belle glanced over her shoulder, dark curls tangled and messy.

“I just wanted to see,” she said.  “Looks like we might have to dig our way out.  Beautiful day, though.”

“Come back to bed.”

She grinned, letting the curtain swing shut again, and hurried over to the bed, her breasts bouncing pleasantly.  He held open the covers for her to burrow beneath, hissing as she snuggled up next to him, her skin cold from the air.

“You’re lovely and warm,” she said, her voice muffled a little by his chest, and he wrapped his arms around her.

“You’re freezing,” he said sternly.  “And as delightful a sight as that was, I’d prefer not to have to nurse you through a bout of the flu again.”

Belle murmured agreement, kissing his chest.

“In that case we should stay in bed,” she said, and yawned.  “Far too dangerous to get up, I’d say.”

“Agreed.”

He dipped his head beneath the covers, mouth seeking hers, and Belle kissed him hungrily, pushing him onto his back as her hands began to trail over his body.  It was a perfect way to wake up.

* * *

Belle opened the front door of her father’s house, ears pricked for any signs of life.  The sound of the TV could be heard as she stepped inside, and she closed the door quietly, hoping to be able to sneak past and up the stairs.

“Belle!”

 _Dammit!_ She chewed her lip, tugging off her boots and hearing the thump of Moe’s feet as he approached.  He wrenched open the lounge door, striding into the hallway in a stained T-shirt and baggy sweatpants, unshaven, bleary-eyed and stinking of stale beer.

“What time do you call this?” he demanded.

“Twelve oh-five,” she said airily, straightening up.

“I was up half the night worrying!”

“Well, I’ve no idea why,” she said.  “I told you where I was, and that I’d be home this morning.  And so I am.”

She shrugged off her coat, hanging it on the hook and tugging off her coat and scarf.

“So,” he said ominously.  “So.”

“So what?” she asked, turning on her toes.  Moe scowled.

“Don’t you take that tone with me!”

“What tone?” she demanded.  “What are you trying to say?”

“You were out all night!”

“Yeah, and I checked in, told you where I was gonna be, and came home when I said!” she snapped.  “I’m not a teenager, I’m an adult!”

She stalked past him into the kitchen, reaching for the kettle to fill it with water.

“So, you’re seeing this doctor bloke, is that it?”

“Yes,” she said, trying for a calmer tone.  “We’re together, we’re serious - very serious, actually - and I’m very happy.”

She turned to the cupboard to get out cups, noting with a frown that he hadn’t cleaned up after himself; an empty pizza box sat on the worktop and dirty breakfast dishes were piled in the sink.  She’d lost count of the times she’d asked him not to do that.

“What can you two possibly have in common?” he asked.

“Lots, actually,” she said stiffly.  “We like books, and talking about current issues, and music, and food.  We’re very good friends, and he’s a good man.”

“He’s too old for you.”

“I think that’s for me to decide.”

“And he’s got a limp.”

“What does _that_ have to do with anything?” she snapped.

“I just meant you could probably meet someone who’s more - mobile.”

“I don’t care that he has a limp,” she said impatiently, taking out the tea and slamming the cupboard door.  “Look, I’ll invite him over one night, you can meet him.”

“So it’s serious, then?”

“Yes,” she said patiently.  “It’s serious. Very serious.  We love each other.”

“Oh, how can you possibly know that?” he sneered.  “You’ve only been on one date!”

“But we’ve been friends for ages!” she insisted.  “Besides, you told me you and Mum knew on the first date.”

“That was different.”

“It always is, isn’t it?” she said tartly.  “Anyway, it doesn’t matter whether you believe me or not.  We’re serious.”

“Well, if you think I’m gonna sit around and watch you two canoodling on the couch every night, you can forget it!”

“You won’t have to,” said Belle, opening the fridge to take out the milk.  “I’m moving out. No canoodling exposure required.”

“You’re moving _out_?”

“Yep.”

She turned to face him, folding her arms and raising her chin.  He was silent for a moment, swaying a little where he stood.

“I don’t want you to go,” he said, almost plaintively, and Belle felt herself soften a little.

“I’ll come over and visit,” she said.  “It’s not like you’re not gonna see me, it’s just that I’ll have my own place.”

“You mean you’re moving in with him?”

“No,” said Belle patiently.  “I mean I’m moving into the apartment above the library.  I have a new job, remember?”

“You didn’t tell me you’d be moving out,” he said sulkily.

“Yeah, well, you’d only just come out of hospital,” she said.  “I wasn’t sure how long it was gonna be before I could leave you on your own.”

“Well, what makes you think you can?” he asked.  “I need your help!”

“No, you don’t,” she said impatiently.  “You’re quite capable of cooking and cleaning up after yourself, you just prefer me to do it.  I thought I might be able to help you with your diet and exercise, but you don’t listen to me anyway.  You just do whatever you’ve always done, and I don’t have the energy to fight with you.”

“That’s not true!”

“You know it’s true, Dad,” she sighed.  “What did you have for breakfast this morning?”

There was a pause.  “Bacon and eggs.”

“And how many drinks did you have last night?”

“Beer or whisky?”

Belle sighed again.  “See?” she said. “I can’t make you look after yourself, so what’s the point?  It’s just stressing both of us out.”

“But I need help around the house!”

“Get a cleaner.”

“I can’t afford that!”

“You can if you stop bloody drinking,” she said.  “Just a few hours a week, that’s all. The more you look after yourself, the quicker you’ll be back at work, the sooner you can earn money again.  I can help out a little until then.”

“Got it all worked out, don’t you?” he said sourly, and Belle turned back to the counter to make the tea.

“Yes,” she said.  “For the first time in years I feel like I actually know what I’m doing.”

* * *

Belle had been out of his house since the previous morning, but Gold found that he couldn’t stop smiling.  The two of them had spent most of the morning in bed before showering together, and then ate a late breakfast of smoked salmon and scrambled eggs before she left to go home.  Belle had said that she was going to spend the next couple of days cleaning the library and sorting the book collection, and had asked him to meet her there after his shift the next day.  It was hard to say goodbye to her, but the feeling of euphoria she had left behind took a long time to dissipate.

He was still feeling on top of the world when he went to the hospital the next morning, but he tried to keep it inside, distracting himself with the work of a busy shift, filled with minor injuries, breaks and sprains, and a suspected case of pneumonia.  By the time he managed to take a break for lunch he was tired, and lined up next to Dorothy in the cafeteria, hungry enough to brave the sausage casserole. Dorothy accepted her own plate of mac and cheese, which made his nose wrinkle.

“So,” she said, glancing across at him as she set her plate on her tray.  “I’ve been dying to ask you all morning - how was the date?”

“It was - good,” he said, and they shifted down the line.

“Just good?”

“It was really good, then.”

Dorothy eyed him, lips pursed and a look of suspicious appraisal on her face.

“Please tell me you didn’t screw it up.”

“How would I screw it up?” he protested, and she shrugged, reaching for an apple and a pot of yogurt.

“I dunno - telling her she didn’t look too hideous when she was actually stunning?”

“That was _one time_ ,” he sighed.  “And I told you that in confidence.”

“I’m not announcing it to the cafeteria, am I?” she said.  “Come on, tell me you gave her a compliment.”

“Of course I did, she looked very lovely.”

“And?” she pressed, turning her hand over and over to encourage him to expand.

“And we had a very pleasant time.”

Dorothy sighed.

“Okay, so tell me you’re going out again.”

“We have another date planned,” he confirmed, and she looked satisfied.

“Well, that’s progress, I guess.  Good.”

“She suggested that we have a dinner date with you and Miss Lucas,” he added.  Dorothy frowned.

“Wait, did you guys find you had nothing to talk about?”

“No, not at all.”

“So why does she want to include another pair on this date?  Were you nice to her? Please tell me you were nice.”

“Of course I was nice!” he said impatiently.

“You didn’t start telling her about some disgusting medical complaint you took care of one time because you couldn’t think of anything else to say?”

“No!” he snapped.  “How much of an idiot do you think I am?”

Dorothy made a non-committal sound at the back of her throat.

“Okay, well in that case, we’d be delighted,” she said.  “You’re a good cook, right?”

“So Belle says,” he confirmed, a little smugly.

“Satisfaction of the culinary variety is always good,” she said, and winked.  “You know, if you like, I’m willing to provide you with some guidance on proving satisfaction of the other variety.”

“I don’t need any guidance, thank you.”

“You sure?” she asked, grinning.  “If you want to know how to please a woman, ask a lesbian.  I can totally help you out. Guaranteed orgasms.”

“I think not,” he said dryly.

“Belle will thank you for it, trust me.”

“For your information, we already had sex,” he said, and reached past her to grab a banana.  Dorothy let out a squawk.

“What?  Since _when_?”

“Since our first date,” he said, trying to make his own grin a little less smug.  “I assure you there were plenty of orgasms.”

“Why am I only hearing about this _now_?”

“Well, I expect because it’s none of your business.”

“Are you _kidding_ me?” she squeaked indignantly, slapping his arm.  “You and Belle had _sex_ and you didn’t _tell_ me?”

A crash from behind made them jump, and a ripple of applause followed it.  Gold turned on his heel, to see Zelena glaring at them, chest heaving and nostrils flaring, a dropped tray with a broken plate and the splattered remains of spaghetti bolognese on the floor at her feet.  Dorothy put her arm around Gold’s waist, smirking.

“That’s right,” she said loudly.  “Dr Gold and his lovely new girlfriend had _all_ the sex!  Isn’t that right, Goldie?”

“Don’t ever call me that again,” he said flatly.  “But yes.”

There was a chorus of cheers from the nurses at the tables, which made his cheeks heat.  Zelena looked as though she was about to explode, but rather than shouting, she marched swiftly from the room, arms swinging by her sides as though she wanted to punch someone.  Gold hoped that she wouldn’t come across Belle in the next hour or two. He turned back to his tray, still blushing, and Dorothy was cackling by his side.

“That should get her off your back for awhile,” she said.

“God, I hope so,” he muttered.  “Subtlety seems to be lost on her.”

He helped himself to a piece of cake, figuring he deserved the calories, and Dorothy nudged him.

“Man, I thought you two would never do it,” she said, looking delighted.  “This calls for a celebration. Drinks after work?”

“I can’t,” he said, a satisfied grin on his face.  “I’m meeting Belle at the library.”

“Careful, you’ll tire yourself out.”

“I said we’re meeting at the library,” he said patiently.  “It’s a date. It doesn’t mean we’re getting hot and heavy in amongst the books.”

“You say that now…”

Gold sighed, amused.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?”

“Probably not as much as you, but yes.”  She grinned at him. “I expect an invite to the wedding.”

“Getting a little ahead of ourselves, aren’t we?”

“Yeah, right, like you haven’t thought about it.”

“Okay, shut up,” he muttered, and she cackled.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, after months of poor Dr Gold being socially awkward and emotionally constipated he finally (with the help of his friends) got his girl. It seems fitting to leave them in their happy place. Thanks to everyone who followed and commented. This is the end.

Belle coughed, her eyes watering as she choked on the dust and what felt like the desiccated remains of a hundred insects, swept from the top of the stacks.  She blinked rapidly, rubbing streaming eyes as she told herself to get higher on the ladder before trying to clean. Pushing herself up the rungs of the wheeled ladder, she tucked a dust-covered lock of hair behind her ear and coughed again as she looked over the top of the bookshelves.

After almost a full day’s cleaning, the library was looking much better.  The books had been taken down and sorted into piles depending on whether they were staying or going, and she had made spreadsheet catalogue of everything she was keeping.  She needed to start making a list of the titles she wanted to procure, as well, but that could wait. The Mayor’s allowance would have to be used wisely.

All the stacks bar the one she was standing on had been cleaned, the windows washed, light bulbs replaced and the blinds taken down and scrubbed.  The library was brighter and lighter, almost free from dust (she still had to mop the floor once she’d finished with the stacks) and smelling of orange oil and Windex.  The circulation desk was clear, awaiting the new computer system she had been promised, along with a new chair and the children’s supplies she had ordered.

She finished cleaning the shelving, rubbing vigorously to ensure the last speck of dust was removed, and heard a faint creak from the library door, followed by a rhythmic tapping.  Smiling to herself, she kept her back to the noise. She had a fairly good idea who was making it.

“Well, there’s a lovely sight.”

Gold’s voice floated upwards, and Belle grinned, turning a little so that she could eye him over her shoulder. He was smiling up at her, hands folded over the handle of his cane, in the black suit and red shirt combination she liked so much.

“I could say the same about you,” she said.  “What are you doing here?”

“We had a date, remember?”

“At seven,” she reminded him.

“It is seven,” he said gently.

“It is?”  Belle groaned.  “No wonder my feet hurt!  I’m sorry, I didn’t realise.”

“No matter,” he said.  “It’s not as though we made a reservation anywhere.”

He held up a hand, and she turned to take it, using him for balance as she stepped down to the floor.  She dropped the dirty rag into a bucket of murky water and wiped her hands on her overalls before stretching up on her toes to kiss him and then dropping back onto her heels.

“Sorry, I’m a disgusting, dirty mess,” she said.

“You look beautiful.”

“I bet I have dust on my nose,” she said, and he grinned, his eyes twinkling.

“Well, that’s true, but you’re still beautiful.”

“Flatterer.”  She slipped her arms around his waist, letting out a contented sigh.  “Want to come upstairs and check the apartment out with me?  I could do with taking a shower.”

“Why don’t I let you do that?” he suggested.  “I seem to remember you telling me that the apartment is somewhat lacking in furniture.”

“Nothing but a rickety old kitchen table and chairs,” she confirmed ruefully.  “I need to get that sorted. Ruby said she’d drive me out to the next town to pick up a bed on Monday.”

“Does the shower work?”

“Yeah, there’s nothing wrong with the hot water,” she said.  “The whole thing needs a good clean and a lick of paint and a little TLC, but it’ll be nice and cosy when I’m done.”

“And do you have something to change into?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Brought over a bunch of my stuff this morning,” she said.  “I figured I might as well start moving in. It’ll encourage me to clean the place up.”

“In that case, I’ll wait down here,” he said.  “I’ll see if I can rustle up some dinner for us.”

“Good, I’m starving!”

She kissed him again, and trotted off to the door that led to the staircase up to her apartment.  The place looked somewhat forlorn, the single bedroom empty of anything but the suitcase she had brought over, a fine layer of dust and two dead flies on the windowsill.  Belle was certain that she could make it into a home, and was excited by the prospect. She took a towel, toiletries and a clean outfit into the bathroom, and turned on the shower.  At least she had thought to clean the bathroom, so she had somewhere clean to get changed. She would have to return to her father’s that evening, though; she didn’t have the energy to clean any more of the rooms, and she had nothing to sleep on in any case.

The water was pleasantly hot, a decent amount of pressure coming out, and she spent some time in the shower, scrubbing the dust and grime from herself and washing her hair.  Once out, she dried off and dressed in a little woollen dress in dark green over tights and comfortable boots. A small cardigan kept the chill from her, and she brushed out her hair and applied a little lipstick before heading back down the stairs.  The gentle sound of music was floating up from the library, something classical and soothing that made her smile.

“Sorry I took so long,” she said, as she rounded the corner into the library.  “I was—”

She cut off, mouth falling open.  The library blinds had been drawn, the light dim except for thick candles flickering on the circulation desk and around a thick blanket, set with cushions.  Gold was standing next to it, looking by turns nervous and self-satisfied, his jacket draped over the desk to reveal his waistcoat and the red silk shirt beneath.  There was a vase of flowers, red roses and lush greenery, and an ice bucket with an open bottle of champagne sticking out of it. She could smell something savoury, garlic and herbs and wine, and she caught his eye with a grin.

“A picnic?” she said, and he shrugged.

“We did have a date, after all.”

Belle smiled broadly, and wandered over to the blanket, settling herself down on the cushions.

“How did you manage to arrange all this?” she asked.

“Well, Dorothy and Jefferson helped me carry everything to the car,” he said, getting down beside her.  “As for the food, I arranged for that to be delivered. Fresh pasta from Marco’s. I hope that’s alright.”

“Delicious.”

She settled back with a sigh as he went about preparing their meal, opening up dishes and setting them down between them.  The savoury scents were stronger, and Belle sniffed eagerly.

“Baked rigatoni, and ravioli with a squash and sage filling,” he said.  “There’s a little basil pesto on that one. Help yourself. There’s garlic bread, too.”

Belle took a fork and dug in, watching as melted cheese stretched and snapped before taking a mouthful of the rigatoni.  Rich ragu sauce made her mouth water, and she made a contented noise as she chewed. Gold grinned, and reached behind him for some champagne flutes, pouring them each a glass.  Belle put her fork down to take hers, and he raised his own, holding her gaze.

“To us,” he said quietly, and they clinked glasses before taking a sip.

The champagne was crisp and fruity, foaming on her tongue, and Belle set down her glass and sighed happily. He was grinning at her, eyes twinkling, and she took up her fork again, this time aiming for the ravioli.

“This is amazing,” she said.  “You’re just the best, really.”

“We should start as we mean to go on, don’t you think?”

“Candlelit pasta picnics in the library?” She winked at him.  “I’m in.”

He grinned, taking a forkful of rigatoni, and there was silence for awhile as they ate.  Belle mopped up pesto sauce with a piece of garlic bread, and then speared a piece of ravioli and popped it into her mouth.  Gold licked oil from his thumb and shifted a little, lounging back against the cushions. He glanced across at her, raising an eyebrow.

“How is Operation Librarian going, then?”

Belle chuckled, and reached for her champagne, taking a sip.

“I’ve mostly sorted the books into what’s staying and what’s going,” she said.  “I need to make a list of the titles I need, and get the equipment in her and set up.  At the moment I’m thinking we should be able to open in a week or so. Providing the computer system works and the books I order arrive.”

“Exciting.”

“It is.”  She dipped bread into the rigatoni sauce, enjoying the pungent taste of garlic and herbs and the richness of tomato sauce and olive oil on her tongue.  “I had a talk with the elementary school. I’m going to run some after-school classes with the kids. I thought I’d keep the hospital library service going too, only this time I should have more of a selection of books for the patients to choose.”

“Sounds as though you’re really finding your feet,” he said.  “If I can help at all, let me know.”

“I may need kisses and snuggles after my long days,” she said, pouting, and he grinned.

“Consider it done.”

She smiled, and took another sip of wine before digging into the pasta again.

“I told my dad I was moving out, too,” she said.  “He wasn’t happy.”

“Ah.”

Gold’s voice was neutral, and Belle sighed.

“It wasn’t just about you,” she said.  “Although he was a pain in the arse about that, too.  It’s just - I don’t think he wants to be on his own. He doesn’t seem to get that I might want my own life, that I have things to do other than look after him.”

“He managed when you were at college, I presume.”

“Yeah, that’s what I said.  Guess he got used to having me around.”

“That doesn’t mean you have to put your own life on hold, however.”

“Good, because I have no intention of doing so.”

They shared a smile, and Gold reached for his drink.

“Well, here’s to your new life,” he said, raising the glass.  “Belle French, Librarian Extraordinaire. Keeper of the Secrets of Storybrooke and Bringer of Knowledge.”

“Granter of Library Cards, Protector of the Stock, and Seeker of the Overdue Tomes,” added Belle.

“Long may she reign,” said Gold solemnly, and they clinked glasses as Belle giggled.

They finished off the pasta, and Belle wiped the last piece of garlic bread around one of the dishes, chewing it up before sucking olive oil from her fingers with a contented hum.  Gold was watching her, a tiny smile on his face.

“Done?”

“Done,” she said, with a sigh.  “That was delicious.”

He cleared away the dishes, packing everything into the bag it had arrived in, ready for the trash, and poured them another glass of champagne.  Belle settled back against the cushions, pleasantly full and happy, and he shifted a little, edging closer. Belle turned on her side, leaning over to kiss him gently.

“This was perfect,” she whispered.  “Thank you.”

Gold reached up, gently brushing a curl back from her cheek, finger trailing along her jawline.

“That was only the first course,” he said, and she groaned.

“I couldn’t eat another thing!”

“All the more for me, then,” he said, with a grin, and she frowned.

“Wait, what is it?”

“Tiramisu,” he said.  “But it can wait, don’t worry.”

“Not _too_ long…”

She leaned in, pressing her mouth to his, and his hand slid around to cup her head, holding her as they kissed, his tongue gently stroking against hers.  He broke the kiss, soft lips parting, and his eyes were gleaming darkly.

“There are other things we could do,” he murmured, his voice low and filled with promise.  “Things I know you’ll like.”

“Hmm.”  She smirked at him.  “Getting you naked one time appears to have improved your confidence.  I like it.”

“Well, it was a very memorable experience,” he said, brushing a thumb over her lower lip.  “Life-changing, in fact.”

“For me, too.”

She kissed him again, more urgently, and he shifted closer, his hand sweeping down her back and tugging her closer before slowly rolling her onto her back.  Belle moaned, stroking her fingers through his hair, enjoying the taste of him and the firm weight of his body atop hers. Gold pulled his mouth from hers, kissing down her neck and making her shiver.

“Fooling around in the library,” he murmured.  “We’ll get in trouble.”

“Don’t worry,” she gasped.  “I’m not expecting either of us to stay silent.”

“Good.”

He kissed lower, hands sliding down her body, cupping her breasts and tracing the curves of her waist and hips before tugging at the dress and pulling it upwards. Belle pushed up a little, shrugging off the cardigan, and he knelt up, tugging the dress over her head and tossing it aside before lowering her back down.  The air was cool on her skin, but his body was warm, his touch welcome, and she let her head roll back against the cushions as he kissed down over her belly, fingers hooking over the waistband of her tights and underwear and pulling them down in one.

It felt strange, lying there in the midst of the candlelit library on a pile of blankets and cushions, practically naked.  Belle closed her eyes, losing herself in the press of his lips and the sweep of his tongue as he pushed her thighs apart, and she rose up with a moan of pleasure as his tongue flickered over her clit.  Gold groaned, hands flat against her thighs, his breath hot against her tender flesh, his tongue soft and wet.

“That’s so good!” she whispered.

He began to lick her in a slow, steady rhythm, sending jolts of pleasure through her with every circling pass of his tongue.  She had curled her fingers in his hair, soft locks wrapped around them, and his tongue flickered and swirled, making her moan, a flush blooming in her cheeks and at the top of her chest.  His hand moved a little, one finger stroking through wet flesh, gently pushing inside her as his tongue swept over her clit. The feel of it increased the sensations, and she moaned, pushing her hips upward a little to let him slide deeper. Slowly, he drew out the finger almost all the way before thrusting it in again, and Belle let out a tiny cry, feeling her body grow taut, feeling her climax approach. He thrust into her again, tongue flickering, and she whimpered, rocking her hips, wanting more of him inside her, wanting all of him.

She sucked in a breath and held it, her pulse pounding in her throat, and exhaled loudly as she came with a loud cry, her body jerking.  Gold groaned again, pulling the finger from her and putting his mouth to her once more, his tongue swirling over her flesh. She tried to catch her breath, letting an arm fall over her eyes as her chest heaved, and he began kissing his way back up over her belly until he was braced on the palms of his hands.  She let the arm fall to the side, and he was gazing down at her, a smile on his face and a soft look in his eyes. His mouth and chin glistened with fluid, and she watched as he wiped it off with a swift movement of his palm.

“Well, look who’s overdressed,” she said, a little breathlessly, and reached up to tug at the knot in his tie.

It didn’t take long to get him naked; he remembered to take off his shoes before his pants this time, as he dryly remarked upon.  Belle giggled as she pushed the shirt from his shoulders, his own hands shoving frantically at his underwear.

“Patience, Dr Gold,” she chided.

“Fuck patience,” he growled.  “You taste too good for patience.”

She chuckled, reaching for one of the condoms he had dropped on the blankets, and tore open the packet just as he finally tossed his underwear into the darkness beyond the candles.  Within moments he was pushed up against her, Belle’s hands on his shoulders, her chest heaving as she met his eyes. He was breathing heavily, and pressed his forehead to hers, a moment of calm.

“I love you,” he whispered, and she nodded.

“I love you too.”

He moved, pushing inside her slowly, and she gasped, knees drawing up, feeling him sink deep, a low groan coming from him as his body pressed against hers, his cock buried within her.  She wrapped her legs around his back, holding him close, feeling the heat from his body, the wetness where they were joined. He began to move with slow, grinding motions of his hips, tight circles letting him rub against her as he pushed deep inside, and Belle moaned, clinging to him, nails leaving crescent-shaped indents in the skin of his back.  It felt incredible, and she let her hips lift and fall, increasing the friction between them, sending waves of pleasure through her body.

“God, that’s amazing!” she whispered.

He bent his head to kiss her neck, mouth sucking at her pulse point, his tongue sweeping over her skin.  She could smell her own scent on him, her arousal mixed with the musk of his sweat, and she tightened her grip on him, holding him close, pressing kisses to his cheek, his jaw, his throat.  Gold thrust deep with a groaning gasp, his cock hard and rigid inside her. He quickened his pace, hips pumping, and let out a harsh cry as he came, his cock pulsing. Belle moaned, pumping her hips against his, the sensations taking her with him in a wave of pleasure and a rush of heat.

He was still moving with short, shallow thrusts, and she kissed along his jaw, nipping at his chin.  His mouth found hers, and his movements slowed and stopped as he kissed her, a deep rumble of contentment vibrating through them.  Gold let their lips part, breathing hard, his nose just brushing hers, and Belle smiled happily.

“Well,” she murmured.  “That was wonderful.”

He grinned, kissing her again, and shifted a little, pushing himself up on his elbows, fingers idly stroking her hair as their breathing eased.  Belle glanced around, noting that one of the candles had gone out. Bookshelves were square blocks of shadow beyond them, thin strips of yellowish light coming in through the blinds from the streetlights outside.

“I wonder if that’s the first action the library has seen,” she said, and Gold chuckled.

“With any luck it won’t be the last.”

“Not if this librarian has anything to say about it, that’s for sure.”

His grin widened, specks of gold gleaming in his eyes, his skin warm in the candlelight.  There was a softness in his gaze, a look of tender devotion that made her heart thump a little harder, and his finger trailed across her cheek, tracing its curve.

“Move in with me,” he murmured, and Belle blinked.

“What?”

He smiled.

“Move in with me.”

She opened and closed her mouth, her heart thumping.

“Are you serious?”

“Absolutely.”  

“Wow,” she remarked flatly.  “So it takes you months to work up the courage to ask me out, and now you have there’s no stopping you, hmm?  What happened to Mr I Overthink Everything?”

He shrugged.

“Maybe it feels right to ask precisely _because_ I spent so long overthinking everything.”

“So you’ve thought about this a lot, then?”

“I have.”  He kissed her forehead.  “My house needs you in it.  I knew it the moment I woke up with you.  Actually, fuck it, I knew the moment you left after having the flu, I just didn’t want to admit it.  I love you, and I want to wake up beside you and make you breakfast and snuggle up with a book every night.”

Belle smiled, her heart swelling with love for him, and stroked his cheek with a gentle finger, brushing a lock of his hair away before it flopped back.

“Tell me more,” she whispered.

“I want to buy groceries together and cook while we drink wine and sing along to music,” he said.  “I want to dance with you in the kitchen and take bubble baths and drink tea on the back porch while we watch the snow fall.”

“You didn’t even get to the hot sex part and I’m sold.”

He grinned at that, leaning in a little.

“Oh, there’ll be plenty of hot sex,” he growled, and Belle giggled.

“Well, since you’re so full of surprises and clearly have no intention of taking things slow, are you planning on proposing any time soon?” she asked, with a wry grin.  “Be nice to have a _little_ warning, if so.”

“That was my plan for Tuesday,” he said gravely, and she giggled again, stroking her fingers through his hair.

“Okay, now I _know_ you’re not serious.”

“Well, not about that,” he admitted.  “Not yet, anyway. But I do think it makes complete sense for you to move in.”

“You sound sure of yourself,” she teased.

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose, and then winced.  “But not _that_ sure, so please put me out of the misery of this budding anxiety attack.  Will you move in with me?”

This time she kissed him, a generous, open-mouthed kiss that took a little time to wind down.  Belle pulled back, smiling up at him.

“I’d love to,” she whispered.  “But can you wait a few months?”

He blinked.

“Of course,” he said.  “We can wait as long as you like.  What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said quickly.  “It’s just - well, I went from my dad’s place to college, and then from college back to my dad’s, and if I come straight to you - well, I’d kind of like to prove I can make it on my own first, you know?”

“I understand,” he said gently.  “I’ll even help you decorate this place, if you like.”

“And risk getting paint on one of your suits?” she said, tutting.  Gold grinned.

“I was thinking we could wear painting overalls,” he said.  “Or just do it naked, that could be fun.”

“We could get a canvas and throw paint at each other and roll around on it,” she said.  “Create a background art piece for the next nude calendar you do.”

She giggled as he tickled her, and kissed him again.

“I love you,” she whispered.  “I really do.”

“Well, I love you too,” he said.  “How long are you gonna make me wait?”

“Hmm…” She pursed her lips.  “Let’s say first of May. That seems an excellent time, wouldn’t you agree?”

He smiled, a sudden flash of sadness in his eyes.

“Neal’s birthday,” he whispered, and Belle bit her lip.

“Oh,” she said.  “Oh, I didn’t realise.  Well, we can pick another day, if you—”

“No,” he said quickly.  “No, it’s perfect. The two best things in my life, coming to me on the same date.  It’s perfect.”

He kissed her again, lips gently pulling at hers, and Belle thought as though she would burst with happiness. She settled back against the cushions with a sigh, reaching up to cup his face with her palm.

“So, this is it,” she said.  “The doctor and the librarian, making a life together.”

“Against all the odds,” he added.  “The misunderstandings, the insecurities…”

“The doctor putting his foot firmly in his mouth every five minutes…”

“We got there in the end,” she said.  “And I love you.”

“Yes.”  He kissed her nose.  “And I love you too.”

She reached up, lips finding his, gently pushing them apart so that her tongue could slide inside.  Gold rolled onto his side, his arms going around her and hugging her close as the candles sent out their flickering light into the dark of the library.


End file.
